The Music Box
by aBeautifulWorld
Summary: Fate always had a way to bring people back together, regardless of time or distance, and returning lost objects after many many years. Sometimes reality and the dreams connect, sometimes they don't. A story of belief, of promises, of hope.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I do not own Ib or any of the elements in the game. They belong to their respective owner; I am merely using them for my own creative amusement.

AN: I got the idea writing this story while studying and listening to Ib's theme song, memories. A random thought popped into my head and I really wanted to expand on this idea. I also wanted to contribute to this small, yet growing Ib section here. Just a warning though, a lot of the game elements are present in this story so it is quite **spoilery**. I don't think it needs an M rating, but it's a pretty **hard T** C: Just saiyan. This is a combination of Memory's Crannies and Promise of Reunion. I hope you enjoy! Happy reading!

Note: This chapter has been revised from the original. Grammar has improved, conversations/flashback conversations make more sense and there is more flow to the narrative.

Song recommendations will be here too ;) For this prologue, I'd say, go with the classic. Ib's Memories.

**Prologue:**

**Japan, 1992**

_-Inside the Fabricated World-_

_Somehow, sometime when he fell down after Mary's portrait burned down, he had cut himself with the shattered glass on the ground. It started bleeding profusely. Despite just having faced several angry, terrifying and bloodthirsty art pieces fearlessly, she was still an inexperienced child. Ib's mind went completely blank at the sight of it. As a force of habit, her hands tugged on the soft cloth that decorated her collar. The material of ribbon felt smooth in her hands, and jolted something inside of her. _

'_Eh?'_

_Ib untied and yanked out the ribbon, grabbing his hand. She softly pressed it onto Garry's wound. The material was silky, wide and long enough to look like a makeshift bandage. She worried her lip and looked to his face with concern. Garry gave her one of the gentlest smiles he could manage._

"_Oh Ib, you shouldn't have done this, now your ribbon is soaked. I'm fine now, thanks to you. You're really an amazing, selfless girl."_

_He removed the ribbon gently from his hand and thought for a moment before placing it into his left coat pocket. He stood up and offered his hand._

"_Hey Ib, it wouldn't do to return it as it is. I'll have to make it clean and then I'll give it back, okay?"_

_She held onto his left hand tightly and nodded, not minding the slightest bit. If it was for Garry, it would be alright. They moved on, out of Mary's hellhole, out of the sketchbook, into the old gallery and out of the fabricated world. _

xIxBx

_-5 minutes after-_

"Hmm? ...What is it, little lady?"

Ib gazed at the unfamiliar man and felt a sense of nostalgia and warmth, although she was sure she had never met him before. Embarrassed to be caught staring, she blushed and looked off at the large rose sculpture. She noticed his intense stare from earlier and shyly asked, "What are you looking at?"

He looked back and his expression softened. Ib felt the look suited his pretty face somehow.

"It's called 'Embodiment of Spirit' apparently. When I look at this sculpture I feel... somehow sorrowful. I wonder why?"

He noticed the child looking just as sad at the rose, absorbing his words. Garry immediately felt uncomfortable for suddenly bothering her. A child shouldn't be distressed, especially not cute little girls. Oddly enough, she felt like a far away, half remembered dream. He looked at his ticking watch, mildly curious in its steady movements. 'Don't be ridiculous' he mentally chastised himself. 'It's time to move.'

"Ah, I'm sorry if I said anything to trouble you. Well... I have to go now. Bye."

Ib couldn't help but feel sad as he walked away, stuffing his hand into his right coat pocket, a pamphlet in his left. Why? She had never met him before, but why was there this tightening in her chest? She felt a bit hollow somehow, her heart like an empty cavern. Ib started for her ribbon round her collar when she realised it felt... empty? Her mother saw her glance at the rose sculpture and came over.

"What on earth happened to your ribbon, Ib?"

She hadn't noticed herself and couldn't remember either. She replied that she must have lost it in the bathroom while adjusting it. Ib felt guilty as her mother looked sceptically at her. The ribbon was one of their favourites too. The restlessness nestling inside of her body made her fiddle badly. She kept touching her collar, twisting her hands aggressively, stroking the smooth material of her handkerchief inside her pocket.

Smooth...

Material...

... Of her ribbon?

_She was with the same man from before, in a strange, pink room, kneeling next to shards of glass. Dolls and sketchbooks and crayons were everywhere. His hand was wrapped in her characteristically red ribbon. She was scared and concerned. He looked grateful. That smile sent a ray of hope through her. They were alive._

"It's beautiful, isn't it? I suppose it represents a person's heart. Do you have such a beautiful rose in your heart, Ib?" The young mother looked down upon her child, smiling. "I hope it would blossom one day, very soon. Let's go look at the others, sweetheart."

Ib obediently followed her mother but hesitated for the slightest second. She wonders if she was dreaming. It doesn't even make sense. She looked over to where the mysterious man in the strange coat stood then turned and walked away.

xIxBx

'Why did that girl look so familiar?'

Garry paced in his apartment, holding the odd red ribbon he found in his hand. He had found it in his left coat pocket and couldn't remember why it was so... important to him? It was a brilliant shade of red, bright as fresh blood (he suddenly shuddered at the thought) and had a bit of lace at the edges, real lace. Ironically enough, there were darker shades of what he recognized was dried, old blood. As a person who quickly drifts from one art field to another, he was quite knowledgeable about his materials... and his injuries in each of them.

He buttoned down the clean ironed shirt he had put on and reached for his belt. He looked into mirror while adjusting his hair and for a strange reason, kept shifting his glance towards the right side of his reflection. He felt very uncomfortable the entire time, like he was being watched.

'So our mystery girl is wealthy? It could be possible, considering there are many snobs at the College. Could it be that I found this somewhere there and picked it up? No... I would have remembered. I can't... remember. There's a block there. Damn it, I can't remember, I just can't. Why can't I remember, why can't I just. I just need to...'

He quickly became frustrated and slammed his right hand onto a nearby table, suddenly experiencing an excruciating pain. He looked at his hand and saw a clean cut across his palm starting to bleed again. He had a feeling that it was cut with glass.

'Did I cut myself with one of dad's tools earlier today or last night? I really shouldn't leave any knives lying around... Pa would throw a fit and...'

Knifes...

A palette knife...

_A young girl, garnet red eyes, longer than shoulder-length brown hair, grabs his cut hand tenderly and pressed the ribbon down, applying pressure to the wound. She looked scared and concerned. He was grateful. He saw the pile of ash on the ground, the smell of burnt paper in the air. He saw the palette knife next to it. He promised to himself, he would never let anyone try to hurt this girl again._

The girl in the museum, he realised. A name sprang into his head, but he couldn't remember what it was exactly. Eve? Eke? He inspected the ribbon again and found the smallest lettering sewed in at a corner. It was the letter _I_. No, no, her name was... Ib. Her name brought back everything. He staggered back a little, shocked by the sudden onslaught of memories triggered by her name. The blue lady chasing him, seeing Ib for the first time, the place full of eyes, the creepy mannequins, giving her candy when she fainted, the separation, the reunion, the sketchbook...Mary... and the ribbon.

He realised he made a horrible mistake.

He had promised to meet up with his mother for an early afternoon tea, the whole reason why he left the gallery in the first place, but he really needed to do this. He criticised himself again and again while grabbing his coat and rushing to get out of his apartment. The gallery was a good 40 minute bus ride away, but he needed to try.

Why the hell didn't he put his hand in his left coat pocket earlier?

xIxBx

He arrived at the museum a good two hours after he had left it, thanks to traffic. Please be here, he thought. Please, please, please, please, please. He searched the entire gallery and even asked people around if they saw a girl with garnet eyes and brown hair. One of them pointed to a lady standing nearby, admiring a painting.

She looks beautiful...

...

She looks old.

Garry studied her inconspicuously. The lady couldn't be nine; she looks like a very classy, very lovely woman in her early thirties. Despite that fact, she still looks very familiar. Garnet eyes aren't a common feature, yet there she was. Another stranger with a vaguely familiar face put their arm around the lady's waist. She leaned back, the man smiled.

"Esme darling, I think it's time to get going."

He spotted wedding bands on both of them and hurried away, wide eyed.

"Alright, dear, where's Ib?"

He scrambled up the steps and slumped against an empty wall nearby. That was... not Ib. Garry realised he forgot to mention to others that she was a little girl. She's a nine year old girl, not married, with hair loose and down, has her whole life in front of her and ... then he remembers.

"_What's the matter Ib? What?! These are your parents?"_

He smacked himself for forgetting such a thing. They were even wearing the same clothes as the "Couple" painting. The lady must be her mother, she has her colouring. The man must be her father, for they shared same features. He stood until he calmed down enough to go back downstairs.

"Come along, Ib. Let's go have some tea, you must be starving."

He saw the couple again and obeys the urge to hide. He first saw them in a painting, so he must be uncomfortable from seeing them walk around so freely after his experiences. Meeting Mary was enough to give anyone a heart attack. He didn't particularly want to meet a young child's overprotective parents either. He was never good with normal folks anyways. Garry hid and watched the happy family from behind a wall edge.

He sees her then, truly sees her; White shirt, red skirt, black socks, red Mary-Jane shoes. The assemble would have been completed with... a red ribbon about her collar, the red ribbon inside his coat pocket, stained with blood. He smacks his head for not noticing earlier at the rose sculpture. She looks sad, an expression he worked so hard to keep off her face before. Her hands play with her collar while she keeps looking around from time to time. A sort of hope gleamed in her eyes while she still looked partly dazed. Her strength was still there, but slightly dampened.

Ib.

Garry was dazed. That just confirms everything. The nightmare was truly and horribly real. They survived it together, conquered it together. They helped each other and forged a bond. The way she stood up to those weird things were admirable and he really came to care for her. She became a true friend to him, something he didn't have very much of outside of his family. He had even promised to go eat macaroons together...

Macaroons.

Tea.

What the hell is wrong with him? Why is he hiding and day-dreaming?

"IB!"

They were gone. Ignoring the annoyed stares, he rushed out of the entrance door to see a golden Honda, with his small friend in the passenger seat, driving by. The traffic light on the road ahead was green and they sped up, moving on, away from the bustling gallery. People were continuing to move in and out while he remained motionless, affixed to the ground.

Garry stood, staring at the vanishing car, while the pager in his pocket kept vibrating. He couldn't believe it. How could he have been so stupid? Thanks to his newfound fears and paranoia, he had let her slip by while cowering away. He knew he was being stupid, being irrational, but the trauma was still too fresh. Like a puppet with strings, he messaged back emotionlessly.

_Ma, sorry I'm late, I'm coming._

Gone.

He dropped the pager back in his pocket and stared gloomily at bustle and hustle of the city streets. The birds were singing cheerfully and the late afternoon sun shone on his hair. He looked up and was mildly thankful of the blue skies and fluffy clouds. He remembers that the same shade of blue in the sketchbook was used for the lake and the sky. He remembers wishing to see a real sun again.

"_Make sure you don't fall in while you're spacing out, Ib." She gives him a curious look, mildly amused by this peculiar statement. They moved on from the lake. _

"_When we get out, I can't wait to the real skies again." They stood outside of the ice-coated door, enjoying the warmth of the fake sun. "Ib, sunbathing is nice, but we have to go."_

Ib was gone.

He had no way of finding her.

He doesn't know her last name, her home phone number, her address. He doesn't have a lot of options to find her again. He can't ask around lest he wanted to sound like a paedophile. He wonders if she would remember him, if she would try to search for him too when she is older.

...Unfortunately, most probably not.

He had no way of contacting her.

He would probably never see her again.

"I'm sorry, Ib." he whispered. He walked away from the gallery, his head hung low, his shoulders slumped and a racing mind replaying their brief time together, their conversations haunting his mind. While one man brooded, desolate and bitter, the world continues to move in its own rhythm, cheerful and hopeful of a better tomorrow.

xIxBx

_**COMING SOON:**_

_She felt the smooth, hard sweet in her hand and held on to it tightly. When she was younger, she never liked lemon sweets. Now, it was her favourite, one of her most precious keepsakes. Somehow she knew it was significant she kept it, it was her link to ... something... something amazing, something wonderful. She hopes she remembers soon._

_A warm, gentle smile and soft pat on the head comes into mind whenever she grips it hard._

_Ib slipped under the bed covers and placed the sweet underneath her pillow._

'_Please, please let me remember.'_

_And then, she dreams._

_**xTxBxCx**_

AN: Memory's Crannies broke my heart, but I always wondered what would happen if Garry didn't notice the handkerchief before he left Ib. And for those of you who had seen the previous version of this story/wondering "Why can't Garry just find her on Facebook?: You'll understand once you see the timeline of this story. Thank you for reading! Take care!

Next chapter in **4 days **:3


	2. Chapter 1: White

Disclaimer: I do not own Ib or any of the elements in the game. They belong to their respective owner; I am merely using them for my own creative amusement.

AN: The entirety of this story takes place in the 1990s to early 2000s when technology was not as advanced/Facebook and Myspace and all that good stuff was not invented yet. Thank you for stopping by. Happy reading!

Note: This chapter has been revised from the original. Grammar has improved, conversations/flashback conversations make more sense and there is more flow to the narrative. There is new material too. Enjoy! :3

Song recommendation: Trois mouvements de Petrouchka by Igor Stravinsky (played by Matthias Fletzberger)

**Chapter 1:**

**Japan, 1988**

_-4.5 years before the Gallery-_

The white pieces stared back at him, mocking him for his lack of enthusiasm, or so Garry thought. He moved them around, separating the corner pieces, the side pieces and the ones that go in the middle ever so slowly.

"Gareth, still not finished yet?"

The blond teacher gently nudged the thirteen and a half year old boy on his shoulder. She had noticed his sluggish movements from the front of the class and came over to check on him. The boy had a potential for greater things, but it would all go to waste if he continued being lazy and spend his endeavour elsewhere.

"I don't see what the point of this is. There's no picture or reward in the end, it's too boring."

She clicks her tongue repeatedly, shaking her head.

"The reward is the fact that you've _actually finished, _a good majority of your classmates already have. The point of the puzzle, Gareth, is to show you how starved we are of colours in this world, how desperately we need a beautiful picture to motivate us to complete our goals." She clasped her hands together, eyes shining along with her monologue, "When everything is white and bleak, challenges are much harder to overcome, unless you find the courage to carry on, or the _attitude_. Hurry up, art ends in 20 minutes."

The said classmates snickered behind their painting tools, having already moved on. The girls sent him awful, high-pitched giggles and the slower ones glared at him for no apparent reason. He grumbled under his breath. 'They probably think _I'm_ mocking them.'

'_To be honest, they're not exciting, since they don't make a picture in the end. It feels much more worth it to do a puzzle of a picture you like.'_

Garry groaned and slammed his head onto the table, refusing to move for the rest of class while everyone else was allowed to progress and have fun with other art projects.

The teacher shook her head again, flicking her wavy hair back.

'What am I going to do with this boy?'

xIxBx

"She has the grace of an angel, the incredible hearing of Mozart! She is not just technically brilliant; her playing has a playful style and heart! Professionals take years, even decades, to achieve what she has done in two months." Stravinsky's Petrushka* rang through the halls of the large house, delighting the servants who were exhausted from working in silence.

Little Ib's long fingers glided over the keys with an acquired ease within her short time of learning. She rocked her body slightly from side to side to move in time with the rhythm, a little dreamy smile on her face.

"You can practically hear an orchestra behind her! I've never seen anyone more gifted."

The piano tutor was beaming at the little girl, shaking with overwhelming pride at his student. Her parents were shell-shocked with awe at Ib's delicate hands, moving with a speed and passion that couldn't quite be fathomed at her age. The four and a half year old girl played from her blossoming heart and resonated her spirit outwards.

Her mother had tears in her eyes and her father's bottom lip was quivering. They were enthralled. Ib played like she was enchanted, the cheerful melody being her morphine. The colourful tone of the grand piano continued on and on, warming her soul. She was about to finish with a grand finale when a loud sneeze stopped her abruptly. She turned towards her audience and grinned sheepishly.

"God Bless you, child!" The piano tutor clapped enthusiastically.

"How was I, Mummy?"

Esme and William clapped their hands loudly, giving her a standing ovation. William wrapped an arm around Esme and hugged her tight. Her mother could barely speak.

"I think the world has found itself yet another musical genius, my darling"

xIxBx

**Japan, 1989**

_-3 years before the Gallery_-

"So Garry-"

He silently gritted his teeth, then cleared his throat, correcting her politely, "Its Gareth"

"So Gareth, I love your hair today, the gorgeous green highlights really go with your natural jet black hair"

"Thank you" he replied dryly. The girl he had barely known had pestered him into a date (he wasn't too sure about her name either, 'Hana or Lana?') and today was the only day he would be free for the next three weeks. He had assignments and family business plans coming left and right. 'What a way to spend the day.'

She was like a leech, or a cigarette, the more you try to ignore it, the harder it becomes to do so, instead, you just give in and give it what it likes. He shudders, 'Not a good example' he thought. He was short of cash, so instead of a movie or something equally interesting, he took her for a walk around the gardens of the large city. He loved the scenery, just like he loved walking, but his date didn't seem to be happy, judging by the sound of her dragging heels.

'Hopefully, she'll think I'm boring.'

The date was not going well, which was good long-term, but painful in the short. He found a stray dog hanging about so he tried to give it some water from a nearby fountain and took it to the nearest animal shelter. Hana/Lana mumbled something about rabies and filth and just stood nearby, not lifting an inch of her brightly coloured, newly polished nails to help.

After helping an old man cross the street, she became even more cross, this time muttering about not paying enough attention or making conversation with her.

"Muttering isn't attractive, stop it."

She clamped her jaws shut and grabbed his arm, snaking hers around it. They ended up buying bread and feeding the ducks at a nearby pond. Her mood cheered ever so slightly, which made Garry a bit more comfortable with his situation. She seemed to whine less when her mind was occupied with a task.

As they were walking through the park later, under the shades of the beautiful giant trees, he suddenly spotted a little bundle of cloth on a wooden bench nearby, almost hidden by the shadows. Looking closer, he realised the bundle was moving, shaking to be precise, and was not just cloth... it was a small girl in a big blue dress.

'Fine-quality material for a little girl's dress' he pondered.

She was petite and fragile, brown hair in a bob and gave the saddest sobs he had ever heard, like her puppy was lost, or the fact she was lost and couldn't find her parents.

"Hey, are you alright?"

The startled child looked up and Garry swore his heart and nasal vessels just burst with how cute she was. Her eyes were a strange colour though... she must have cried for weeks to get eyes that red... Garry may have thought the child was adorable, but his date saw nothing but running mucus and waterworks. She mentally steels herself for another episode.

"I lost my d-daddy. I was looking at some flowers, then I ran to play with a kitty and.. and.. when I turned around, he was... he was..." The girl had started crying again. Garry melted in an instant and went to sit down next to her. He gave the child a caring bear hug with his lanky arms.

"Shh, it's okay, everything will be okay."

His date stood nearby, shocked by the display of gentleness on the usually apathetic, bored face. She shifted from one foot to the other, awkwardness slowly creeping up her spine. She was never good with children, didn't want any, and was a lost at what to do. Despite the apparent age gap and their _unusual_ position, Gareth didn't look weird like a paedophile at all, his posture was too innocent, and he looks more like a comforting big brother from his demeanour, even if they don't look anything alike.

"Let's get your daddy then," he softly whispered.

Garry carried the girl all the way on his back while she fastened her arms around his neck. Her eyes were closed and it seems that she had cried herself to sleep. He was glad he wasn't wearing his coat today, or he would be sweating buckets underneath all the heat, despite the chilly breezes that were signifying the coming of autumn soon. His date was lagging behind, watching him intently with a curiosity that he found the slightest bit unsettling.

"You're good with kids, but not normal people," she started. "You avoid us like the plague, yet your heart bleeds for every lost child, every frail old man, every kicked puppy, why is that?"

"Normal people..." he replied, slightly out of breath, "...can sort out their own mess. I help those who can't help themselves."

"Uh-huh. So if we _can't _help ourselves, like we're injured or something, then your gentle 'Garry' side would come out?"

"Maybe. Don't you dare think of breaking your own leg, Lana."

The sudden stillness of her footsteps puzzled him, so Garry turned back at his astonished date. Her face was pinched tightly, her eyes glazed over with hurt. "It's Jessica."

To his surprise, he reeled back from his mistake. He found her a nuisance, so he didn't expect the guilt of hurting her to cut. He muttered a soft apology. A heavy silence settled around them.

When they arrived at the shops of the town centre, they found an almost hysterical father greeting them and returned his daughter. It was a heart-warming sight and even Jessica, known as ice-queen around her friends, softened. Garry raised one eyebrow at her and tugged her away by the arm, not even staying to hear the name of the six-year-old they had rescued.

"I was so worried about you, don't ever stray again, do you understand? Thank goodness for that boy. Thank-" The young man turned around but there was no one there. He stroked his angel's soft brown hair and tucked her under his chin. "C'mon love, let's go home."

Jessica stared at their entwined hands and smiled the entire way he walked her home. She knew it was the already the end of whatever she started, but she enjoyed the change of heart while she could.

xIxBx

**Japan, 1990**

_-1.5 years before the Gallery-_

"How's it going, lady-boy?"

"Ugly Muppet"

One of them scoffs at him as he walks by, spitting at him in disapproval, "Disgusting weirdo" they muttered.

He tossed his red hair to the side and continued to stroll and whistle by, carrying his heavy folders with him to class. Their opinion didn't affect him one bit. He was intelligent, he had girls flocking to him like sheep; he was generally content with his life. He didn't have the slightest clue why they disliked him so much. It was his choice to talk the way he does, his intrigue in beauty that makes him colour his hair and choose his style in clothes, his personal opinion and dislike of sweat to take part in any sport. It doesn't make him any lesser than his school mates.

Rebel

He caught the eye of one familiar girl from a few years back, who blushed and turned away. He looked forward again and carried on, entering the classroom. Garry dumped his folders onto his table in the back row, slumping into his chair. He unbuttoned his school jacket and let it hang out from his sides.

Outcast

Opening his notebook, he smirks at the sketches of several jacket designs. Garry turned the pages littered and scratched with illegible numbers and words to sketches of the school buildings. The next page contained a pencil sketch of a daffodil he found a few days back. Flipping the pages once more, he came across a blank page and started his creative work once again. The thought of the incredible Eiffel Tower didn't leave him.

Artist

At least the fan-girl's descriptions were half accurate. Garry's family was full of artists, or a different variation of it. Aunts and uncles were bakers, musicians, sculptors and so on. His father was a woodcarver with a modest shop; his mother was a painter whose successes have only been used to feed the family. There may only three of them, but with both parents coming from poor families, he knew what hard work feels like and the meaning of going to bed hungry.

He didn't mind it at all, it taught him a lot of things: how to be grateful, how to be happy, how to earn your successes and feel good about it. It's also taught him how rough the world can be, and just how cruel children are sometimes. He remembered the first day of junior high.

"_Pfft, what a stupid looking kid."_

"_I think he's kind of cute!"_

"_Shut up, stupid girl!"_

"_Blue hair? Seriously?"_

At first, he thought they were just being shallow and silly. Then, they turned even meaner and even more vicious than before now in high school, but he still couldn't give a damn.

"_Go die in a hole, get hit by a truck, whatever. No one likes you here."_

"_I bet he thinks he's some kind of artistic freak" _

"_Bet he's nothing but a freak"_

"_Worthless homo"_

He wasn't quite sure whether it was hobo or homo, that one was muttered. He didn't know why everyone was so homophobic, even if he wasn't one. Honestly, he didn't care. Sixteen and a half year old Garry had more self-confidence than most of his peers. Being alone a good deal of his life, he didn't mind another few more years in this special type of torture called high school. No more judgement, no more suffocating social conformation showed by the sheep here. He couldn't wait to be free.

xIxBx

There was something equally soothing about the silence to 7 and a half year old Ib.

She gave the picture another stroke of her paintbrush and it was finished. She scrutinised the painting once more and cracked a big smile on her paint smeared face. The mother and baby in the painting had their heads a little too big, their arms way too thin and smiles that would look demented on a real face. A normal person would be slightly disturbed by the painting, but give a forced smile anyways to praise Ib for working so hard.

Mothers aren't normal people. When she presented it to her mother, Esme was so ecstatic she gave Ib a big sloppy big kiss and told her how much she loved it, truly and honestly. She had seen how hard the girl worked on the piece and was touched by the effort. The painting was hung in the family dining hall next to the extremely large family portrait recently taken.

Ib's love for art grew more and more each day.

A mother's love knew no boundaries. Esme loved both Ib and Evangeline, Evie for short, with so much fervour she was constantly cheerful for a very long time after giving birth to her second child. The joy lasted for two years and many happy memories were made in their large, beautiful house. Songs, dances, smiles and laughter. Picnics and plays, stories and adventures were stored in videotapes and pictures.

Then, Evie started coughing more. She was always in bed, sick. After a shocking revelation during a doctor's appointment, it all came down, crashing and burning.

xIxBx

**Japan, 1992**

-_5 months after Gallery-_

"Garry, come to bed."

"I'm fine."

He stood, despite the bitter cold, out on his balcony, shirtless and only in his pyjama bottoms. The chill kept his mind focused on his body, not his God-damned fragile state of mind. He frowns and stubs his sixth cigarette that night. His smoking was becoming worst and worst, finishing two packets a day, at least. Whenever the flashes come back, he would grab a fag and fill his system with nicotine, drowning it out. He was glad he hadn't turned to drugs at this rate... yet.

"Garry-"

"It's Gareth. Go to sleep, love, I'm fine."

His girlfriend Melissa, history student in the college, didn't know what was wrong with him. He was so depressed nowadays and rejected every advance she made towards him, every seductive look and every risqué outfit she dolled up in. She once even sat on his lap while he was watching tv with his shirt on, _only his shirt on_, and he flatly told her she was blocking the show.

She loved his flamboyance and his aloofness, the latter was what was so damn charming about her man. She loved his weirdly coloured hair that changed every month or so... well, this purple has stayed for quite a while; it looks good on him anyway. He was becoming stranger and stranger though, beginning to hate her and she thinks... she wonders...

She wonders if he truly was an okama.**

"I'm not, I'm just tired."

Did she... say that aloud?

He walked back to bed and lied down on his side, sighing loudly and draped his arm over his eyes. This girl is irritating. He truly wonders about his taste in woman.

"Honey, why don't you let me call you Garry? We've been together for nearly 9 months and you still don't-"

"Garry's a special name to me. Only a few people call me that."

She saw red. That was the last straw. How dare he speak like that to her? Despite being an oddball, Garry was nothing if not kind and gentle at heart. A few months ago, this bitter, twisted version came out of that art gallery and was walking around in his skin. He used to appreciate her cooking and cleaning for him, and he would... they would... this is unbelievable. Her? Not special? She's moving out in the morning. He can kiss her arse goodbye.

"So what am I, your maid and your whore? You ungrateful pig!"

She huffed and turned over, pulling almost the entire duvet over her, leaving him exposed to the cold room of November. He looked sideways at her, wide-eyed at her anger. A chill ran through him once again.

He wasn't sure if it was her or the cold. He regretted his words instantly, yet no apology came out. He frowned in disappointment at himself, like his mouth was sewed tight. Garry shivered at the thought.

'It's too damn frosty.'

He turned to his back, remembering the morning he was preparing to go to the gallery. He had stopped by his father's house to deliver medicine he picked up the other day early in the morning, and then hopped on the bus to go to the art exhibit.

He was excited to see what his mother went on and on about all those years when he was a child. He never even heard of the artist in art class. He was going to go with his mum, but it seems as though his father was so sickly she couldn't leave his side. He promised her an afternoon tea when the kind helper would come and look after his father.

Garry was a special name, huh? Then why was he so free to give it away?

"_Ah, I still haven't asked your name. How foolish of me! Well, I'm Garry. And you are? Ib... Ib, you say. It's dangerous for a child to be all on their own... So I shall stick with you! Let's go Ib."_

He was an idiot. He mentally groaned at what happened next with that weird saliva... portrait... thing. Hyeeeek? He may have been terrified out of his mind and delirious happy to not be in pain but... that response was just...

He smacked his face again for the millionth and third time.

In front of a child too.

He looks at his clock on his nightstand.

3: 52

Eight more minutes until four in the morning. He may as well start on the next day. Who cares if he only had an hours sleep 14 hours ago? Seize the day! Early bird catches the most worms! Grab the opportunity!

He sighed.

All he had to do is...

He sighed even louder.

"Shut up, Gareth."

Unsure of what to do, he stroked her hair gently. He had to apologise in the morning. His head was spinning when he swung his legs out. He groans with exhaustion and gets out of bed.

xIxBx

Little Eve was too sick to come with them to the gallery. Ib was glad. She knows something awful, something horrifying happened that day. It was the reason why she felt so empty, so exhausted and so frightened of some of those portraits.

"_Ib, can you walk? If you're tired, make sure to tell me right away, okay? Don't be shy about it! I'll completely understand!" _

She felt the smooth, hard sweet in her hand and held on to it tightly. When she was younger, she never liked lemon sweets, she preferred mints. Now, it was her favourite, one of her most precious keepsakes. Somehow she knew it was significant she kept it, it was her link to ... something... something amazing, something wonderful. Out of all of those disturbing images in her head, she sees kindness and peace too. She hopes she remembers soon.

"_Ib, would you look take a look in the pocket of that coat?" She feels around in the large fabric snuggling her and... there's a piece of candy... "You can have that. Feel free to eat it." _

It took her 5 months, bits and pieces coming together to form a bigger picture. Dreams haunt her nights, memories haunt her days. Some would be new; some would be repeats again and again. Sometimes there would be reprieves when they don't come, but when they do, they hit even harder. She knows there are still gaps: people, places and most importantly... she doesn't know _how_ the story ends either.

The sweet gives her a glimpse of hope, when she knows there's not going to be a lot of it. Baby cries echo from the room down the hall, her mother's desperate coos go unheard. Tears prick her eyes. She breathes in deeply and whispers a prayer, the sweet still trapped in her hand. She's going to find a locket and bring it with her everywhere.

A warm, gentle smile and soft pat on the head surfaces, giving her the slightest bliss from the current nightmare she was living. The ever constant, 'She's not going to make it' taunt slowly ebbs away. Silence. Blissful silence.

Ib slipped under the bed covers and placed the sweet underneath her pillow.

'Please, only the good ones, please.'

She dreams.

She dreams of hands coming out of walls, of headless statues coming to life and chasing her. She dreams of a falling red ball of paint, a dark figure banging on windows and footsteps coming towards her. She dreams of a crying child, trapped in a baby crib, sobbing as three menacing figures approach it; A headless statue; a woman in a portrait crawling by her fingernails; a mannequin head.

She wakes.

She grips the sweet in her hand and makes her way to the grand piano in the drawing room.

It was the start of many nights, for many years.

xIxBx

_**COMING SOON:**_

_Something's wrong with him. He feels like this city is trapping him. _

'_So this is what a living nightmare feels like.'_

_The time in the gallery may be over, but its legacy, the fear and the bone-chilling horror, was still echoing everywhere. Garry was glad he came here, the outskirts had less light and he could finally see the stars. He smiled sardonically, cursing the irony._

'_What a marvellous night' _

**xTxBxCx**

AN: Puzzled by Garry's behaviour, Ib's family life or just my peculiar sense of humour? Comment about anything in a review and I'll be happy to hear your thoughts C: I may reply too! If there are any spelling mistakes, inconsistencies or grammar errors, don't hesitate to tell me. Take care!

*Trois mouvements de Petrouchka by Igor Stravinsky if you're interested in a listen. It is renowned for its notorious technical and musical difficulties. All three movements include wild and rapid jumps which span over two octaves, complex polyrhythms, extremely fast scales, multiple glissandos, and tremolos. Ib was about to finish the first movement when her sneeze distracted her. ^_^

**"Okama" (or "o-kama") is Japanese slang for "gay man", particularly in reference to very effeminate gays (like pretty Garry). The word can also mean "drag queen."


	3. Chapter 2: Black

Disclaimer: I do not own Ib or any of the elements in the game. They belong to their respective owner; I am merely using them for my own creative amusement.

AN: "Though this be madness, yet there is a method in't" Don't worry bros, I've got this.

The little notes in _italics_ indicate time _relative_ to the "gallery trip". If there is no note between two perspectives, it's in the same time frame. Italics can mean flashbacks or remembering a time in the gallery or just plain emphasis on a point. Hope it helps.

Note: This chapter has been revised from the original. Grammar has improved, conversations/flashback conversations make more sense and there is more flow to the narrative. There is new material too. Enjoy.

Happy reading!

Song recommendation: Beethoven Sonata No.31 (played by Daniel Barenboim) after the asterisk (*) :3 The chapter is short-ish so the first movement should be enough :3

**Chapter 2:**

**Japan, 1992**

_-5 months after the Gallery-_

He watched from the bed, red eyed, steaming mug of coffee in one hand, as Melissa bustled about, looking over the tables and chairs and any other flat surfaces to see if she's left anything behind. The bathroom, check; the bedroom, check; the living room, check; the kitchen, check. She was also purposely doing it to give him more time, to apologise, to ask her to stay, anything. She knew she was being selfish, but she didn't want to let him go, even if he didn't want her anymore.

He remained silent, eyes ever watching her movements.

Conflict. Contradiction. She could see it in his eyes.

At last, when she's scoured every possible place, her things neatly arranged in her bag, she sat down next to him, holding his hand. She laid her head on his wide shoulders and breathed deeply for a few minutes. They remained silent. Then, Melissa slowly traced his jaw with her fingertips, feeling his soft skin, imprinting his scent into her memory for the last time. He gives her a sharp look.

"_I was just so focused on getting out of here, I didn't look really look after you. I'm sorry, Ib."_

'Don't leave me.' He silently pleaded.

"I didn't want to do this," she started, smiling a little. "Do you remember when we first ended up together and I moved in? You chose my clothes and played with my hair a lot, like a sassy gay friend, or a loving boyfriend. You were so weird and random and I loved you for it. I saw a part of you very few people have and it was so incredible. I admit... I felt very possessive of you.

"You were so vibrant in your own right, whether you were on your own or people were surrounding you. You attracted attention without even trying. I thought we could be perfect together. You were strange, but likeable. You saw things the way nobody else did."

She kissed his cheek, lips lingering a second longer before she pulled back, heart heavy at the sight of his face. She could see the remorse slowly coming, but she knew what was best for her, for them, for him. She pulled her hands back and placed them on her lap.

"You used to be so kind to me. Now...you've changed into someone I don't even recognise anymore. You may have had walls to keep most people out, but I climbed through them, and you even helped me, you know... pulled my hands at times." She took a deep breath and stood up. His hand suddenly shot up and grabbed hers. His head was down. The walls are almost back up, she could see it. Whatever he would say would be the last of it.

"I got so caught up in my own problems, everything else just... faded away. I didn't look after you, I thought badly of you. I'm sorry Melissa."

"I'm sorry too, Gareth. You always held yourself back from so many people you can't even let someone in anymore."

He wanted to object_ '_That's not true_.'_

"You either need to sort yourself out, or you need help. I've been watching you for months, trying to, but... I can't do this anymore. If you're too unwilling to help yourself, how can I help you?" She got up, brought her bag with her and left the bedroom, leaving Garry behind, leaving this part of her life. She opened the front door and walked out, not looking back.

"Goodbye, Garry"

Garry placed his head in his hands, unmoving and whispered a soft, "Goodbye Melissa."

xIxBx

**Japan, 1995**

_-3 years after the Gallery-_

"I love you, Ibbi."

The spoon lowered as Ib's arm placed itself on the bed. She looked closely at her little sister and felt a pain in her chest. They had been happily chatting as Ib spoon fed her and kept her company. The random little statement brought about a foreboding feeling. The twelve year old gave her sister a bright, wide smile, as if nothing was wrong, as if she wasn't bedridden, as if they didn't know she didn't have much time left.

"I love you too, Evie."

"Will you always love me, Ib? Will we always be together, forever and ever?" She blinked her chocolate brown eyes, so different from Ib's very own garnet ones, and looked at her with all seriousness.

"Of course I do, of course we will, silly Billy. What are you saying?"

Ib felt her resolve shaking, her eyes starting to betray her. The shining little star in their family was fading more and more each day, the glitter in her eyes is dulling away. She used to sing while Ib played the piano, dance when one of her moods take her, make Ib write short stories or dramas just so she could act it out. It used to be perfect... now... she didn't even get out of bed. Evie suddenly had a coughing fit and Ib gently rubbed her back. She adjusted the covers so that she would be more comfortable.

"I'm not sure if I can do this much longer."

"My darling sister, of course you can. Tomorrow's your sixth birthday remember? You can do this. You're getting better right? We'll live long healthy lives together and I'll always, always, always love you. We'll always be connected. Trust me, it's a promise"

They smiled at each other; Ib gave her a final hug and left so Eve can rest in peace.

That night, the house was silent, still with no movement, no playing of the piano and curiously, no moans of pain. Ib laid in bed, eyes staring at her bed canopy, fingers outlining the wrapper of her beloved sweet. She felt so lethargic, her body as heavy as lead. She turned over and closed her eyes.

Eve's face was tranquil, completely devoid of pain; her petite body lay in a restful position.

Esme and William held hands in bed, relieved, falsely believing that things would turn around. They had grand plans that day, a birthday party for Eve and then a picnic in her favourite park, the one with the very large playground. She would sing and dance and smile with Ib and they'd be a happy family again, even for a short time.

*In the morning, the house was very much alive, but it wasn't a celebration. There was food being prepared but there were no candles on cake, no big picnic being packed. There were servants moving furniture about but it wasn't to make space for the children. They came too, but not to play. Rows of chairs were being prepared, but the stage was set for a very different genre altogether.

_Evangeline Clara Bennett_

_Loving daughter, sister, friend_

When all others, including her parents, had left the gravestone, Ib finally allowed herself to cry, her stoic face melting into one of pure grief. She looked up to the grey February sky. Her spirit was tired and all she wanted to do was to hug her little sister again, apologise for all the lies she made. _Trust me, it's a promise. _Her heart cracked with the promise she couldn't keep, and shattered with the one she would, in life and in death.

xIxBx

"Thank you for your purchase, please come again soon."

The absolutely convincing, utterly gorgeous smile dropped from his face when the customer left, revealing an exhausted and jaded interior. He sighed with relief once he spotted it was closing time and started packing up the things needed at home.

He flips the sign on the door, _Closed, _and walks out into the increasingly busy crowd of the city centre shopping district. The shop was small and modest in the older part of the city centre, but the charming exterior always brought in a steady stream of customers. Garry huffs at the giggling school girls nearby and ignore their awful, failing seductive looks.

It didn't hurt that the current shop-owner was striking in both charms and demeanour either.

He walks home every day, even though he owns a car. It was the only exercise he would get in his monotonous life. He used to be a swimmer in college, but quit after...

He shuddered.

'... Aha... ha... best not to think about that particular art piece.'

The ocean always scared him anyway.

He's been doing this for two years now, following his father succumbing to illness. Garry had few regrets in his short life, but what he had always concerned his father. They fought, he moved out and communication was strained and painful. He had to come back often though, helping out his father at the insistence of his terrifying mother. They never had the same relationship again. Now, it was too late.

It wasn't the work that bothered him too much; he enjoyed woodcarving and seeing his efforts making someone happy. It was the silence during his work that gave him too much room to think, too great a temptation to dwell, to look back. Garry wasn't happy at all, not since he met the little girl and scrutinised "Embodiment of Spirit". That sorrowful feeling carried throughout time.

Despite the fact it's been 3 years since the gallery, nightmares hunt him down, repeating the same horrors over and over again. In his dreams though, all of the horrors that thankfully didn't happen, happened. Everywhere he went in the city, something would always serve as a remainder to him. They taunt him. He's had enough.

He's staying with his mother in his old home, after a few... episodes with her... condition, and moved back to his old room. He noticed something though, on the stairs, when he was looking for his whittling knife that night. He saw a photo of his parents, his mother heavily pregnant, smiling in a beautiful, colourful setting with canals and canoes. Garry asked her about the picture as soon as she arrived home.

"Your Pa and I went off to celebrate you all the way in Venice, Italy. You were our first successful child after 15 years of marriage, dear. I dug this out of some old boxes while cleaning today..."

His mother continued but Garry was only half-listening to her. Venice, eh? A seed of a plan was planted in his brain. Afterwards, with much careful deliberation, research and meticulous calculation, Garry decided exactly what he was going to do.

"_...You're too unwilling to help yourself, so how can I help you?"_

He didn't know if it was the right decision to make, but at least he's going to take a step forward.

xIxBx

**Japan, 1996**

_-4.5 years after the Gallery-_

Thirteen and a half year old Ib focused on her new composition, scribbling down the notes to her piece furiously, hearing the strike of the piano keys in her mind. She hums for a few minutes, solidifying the melody before putting it on paper. The music was unvarying, but music writing was still new to Ib, so she had a bit of trouble transcribing from mind to paper.

Throughout the years, she had simply memorised how to play her compositions by ear, keeping them a secret to herself. She preferred reciting than reading the notes herself. Now that her music teacher wanted to try them, she had to comply and write them out. She grew a bit frustrated and tugged at her hair, fiddling with the lace on her nightdress.

Eve was still very fresh on her mind. Whenever Ib couldn't sleep, she thought of her and all of their good times together. The piece Ib had composed over the years was a lullaby, ironically enough, but it had a depth that made it feel just a little heavier, the layers integrating together to form something magical. There were certain portions which seem _melancholic _and there were certain portions which seems much more promising, optimistic.

She was afraid of what she would dream of at night. For the past few years one dream kept repeating, without fail. A child, trapped in a baby crib, sobbing as three menacing figures approach it; A headless statue; a woman in a portrait crawling by her fingernails; a mannequin head.

After rubbing her eyes for hours, and feeling exhausted enough to not dream, she goes to bed, gripping the lemon sweet inside her hand, and whispers a prayer, 'Please, please let it be different.'

It's different.

There's no gallery, there's no horrific monsters chasing her.

It's similar.

A gravestone, grieving family and friends stand nearby.

She looks at her hands and jumped, horrified at what she saw. She was ethereal light, almost transparent and intangible to the touch.

A man is shovelling earth onto a grave, still uncovered. Ib stands nearby, like a strange ghost, completely unable to touch or communicate to anyone around her. Whenever she tried, her hand went straight through. The man has finished and people pat him on his back, apologising, whispering words that should have been comforting. They're not. She can feel his sorrow, piercing her like rose thorns on vines. His destitution was written all over his face.

_We're sorry for your loss, Weiss._

_It wasn't your fault. _

_We'll take care of your boy, don't worry._

He takes a child from a nearby nurse and holds him tight, murmuring words of love in his ears. Ib watches, stands right next to him as he tells the boy he was no money, they have no home anymore, he's a pitiful excuse of a father. She can't see the boy's face, but his shaking shoulders say enough.

With nothing left, he can barely look after himself, let alone a small child. Ib saw him talk to a gentlemen who seemed quite well off, begging him to mould the boy into a grown man. She walked to a house on the verge of collapse nearby, wondering how it came to this point of disrepair. She walked through the grey walls, shocked by the filth of the house. There was hardly any furniture. She glazed through each room, before settling into how looked like a master bedroom. It was full of medicine, basins and heaps of cloth. Sitting on the bed, she gasped when she saw the door open and the same man from earlier walk through.

He didn't notice her.

She sighed in relief.

He sighed in... was that... anger?

He pulled up a canvas she hadn't notice leaning against the dresser and scrutinised it. He threw it against the wall opposite him and his face crumbled in grief. Packing a bag of whatever necessities he needed, he left. Ib walked cautiously to the canvas to see it was an unfinished, mouldy painting of the same man, with a beautiful lady, face mostly hidden by a lacy veil, on what looked like their wedding day. Her eyes narrowed in confusion at the barely noticeable bump on the wedding dress. Feeling herself starting to slip away like a resolved spirit, she watched him walking swiftly off from the window.

He's walking away from everything. His life, his only love, his boy. The years spent in misery will stay here.

He's leaving it all behind.

Ib wakes up, the first rays of morning light peeking through her thick curtains. Unclenching her right fist, she realised she was tightly holding on to the lemon sweet.

'How heartbreaking,' she thought. 'What a strange dream."

xIxBx

Garry worked like a monster unleashed, always going for jobs that pay higher, always looking for ways to save. For almost one and a half years, he hasn't gotten a proper night's sleep, only surviving with six twenty minute power naps throughout the day. It was possible, but he needed to make sure he had gotten those naps, otherwise, he would be tired for days, sometimes a whole week.

'Thank goodness I found out about polyphasic sleep', he thought one day, as he was carving his next batch of shop inventory, and more. 'Lots of things to be done.'

From nine in the morning to five in the afternoon, he works in his father's shop. From six until two in the morning, he works the best job he can find, bartending, being a waiter at a hotel, modelling or something else equally high-paying. When he arrives home in the middle of the night, he starts on the new stock for the shop. He was relentlessly working, or carving that his mother became very worried for him. He was a man possessed and it kept him distracted from other things... like food and entertainment, not to mention the nightmares. The naps didn't let him dream very much.

"_Don't worry Ma, I can handle this. I've got a plan, you'll see soon enough."_

He could just do this for the rest of his life, but he knows that it wouldn't completely vanquish his paranoia, or let him explore himself, and it wouldn't be entirely healthy either. This long, extended holiday/trip is going to be good for him. He's looking forward to the foreign food, the beautiful women, the scenery, the incredible buildings and landmarks... he's just excited.

He's got a bit of money to start now, so he'll just have to find a few odd jobs here and there to survive if he runs short. He's familiar with survival; he grew up in a battleground, constantly facing opposition. However, there are things he doesn't know, so he has to be very cautious and learn how to not sound with a tourist when speaking foreign languages. All Garry knew was that he wanted to travel; he wants to escape the constant asphyxiation he gets every time he sees something that reminds him, every time he remembers, every time he dreams of her face.

Something's wrong with him. He feels like this city is trapping him.

'So this is what a living nightmare feels like.'

He picked out a cigarette from his dwindling supplies and lighted it. He rubbed his eyes. He's been so busy he hasn't been able to smoke as much or restock either. It was good, he suppose. Before the gallery, he had tried to quit, using lemon sweets as a substitute. After the gallery, he couldn't look at candies in general for a very long time.

The time in the gallery may be over, but its legacy, the fear and the bone-chilling horror, was still echoing everywhere. Garry was glad he came here by car, finally taking a break from his rigid schedule. The outskirts had less light and he could finally see the stars.

The stars were shining brightly, faintly illuminating the mountains far away from the city. The dark green and navy blue of the sky blending together was beautiful as well as unforgettable. The stars in the sky twinkled merrily, teasing him, making him linger on a faraway painting.

'What a marvellous night.'

He smiled sardonically, cursing the irony.

xIxBx

**Japan, 1997**

_-5 years after the Gallery-_

Her parents kept giving her curious, perhaps worried, glances all throughout dinner, and she was nervous that she did something wrong, or entirely inappropriate. Was it the fact she didn't come straight home afterschool? She was fourteen; she deserved a little space after all. Was it her purchases...? Oh! Her purchases!

After finishing desert, her mother cleared his throat and Ib swallowed a lump in hers.

"Ib. The maids found something in your room that had caught my interest this evening. Do you know what they found?"

She had a feeling she knew what direction this would take.

"No, Mummy." Her heart raced. Her palms became sweaty.

"They found a lighter, lying on your dressing table. They were concerned for you, and so am I." Her father's face hardened, "What were you intending to do with that lighter Ib?"

"It's purely for decoration, Dad."

"Oh, really now?"

Ib narrowed her eyes at her father's suspicion. He stared back, unforgiving, and she thought he was being hypocritical. He had his own lighter in his pocket right now and a box of cigars somewhere in the drawing room. Her mother looked from one to another and finally broke the tense silence between father and daughter.

"Ib, we're concerned about you. It's been two years now. We thought we would leave you alone when you started playing the piano 10 hours a day, when you wouldn't speak for weeks, when you roamed the house at night, not able to sleep. We thought that was just your way of coping. We know you two were close. This, young lady, is too much-"

"I'm not smoking."

She rubbed her moist hands on her skirt. Her parents scrutinised her. She frowned back.

"I'm not. And we're _still_ close, forever and always. I just like how pretty the lighter is. You can check my nails, my teeth and how I smell. May I be excused?"

Her parents looked at each other and then gave her a hard stare. Her father placed his elbow on the table and gave a deep sigh. His mother relented and gave Ib a blank stare.

"You may."

She walked away briskly, making her way to her room, checking they were still there.

That same day, Ib had been out in the city by herself afterschool, wanting some fresh air and a bit of independence for a change. It was another suffocating day of school; she needed a chance to breathe. She had never been the type to window-shop, or bought frivolous trinkets that she didn't need. However, the moment she laid eyes on the lighter and the locket, her heart was transfixed.

She had found the locket first in a jewellery shop. The cool platinum locket had a beautiful design, engraved with swirls that vaguely resemble the petals of a rose. It was shaped like a sweet wrapper too, round in the middle with a bit of slight flair on each side. It was small enough to wear everyday for a necklace, and large enough to fit the lemon sweet she never once opened years ago. It was perfect for her.

Feeling another craving, she popped a honey lemon sweet into her mouth. Whenever she had the urge, she would also buy other lemon sweets as a treat for herself, but never touch the one she had found after the Gallery.

Pleased with her fantastic discovery, she came across another one in an obscure little shop just opposite to it. It gleamed brightly in the dim lighting and Ib was compelled to have a closer look. It was an ordinary gas lighter, decorated in style. The main metal was engraved with the design of a bird of prey, powerful, striking and deadly. Yet somehow, it seemed very gentle and protective to Ib. Towards the right side, a small G could be seen. The cap has two miniature stones, the colour of sapphires, adorning the edges. She had never smoked, never wanted to, so why did she want this lighter?

"_Oh! I forgot I had a lighter with me. Let's see if it helps, one moment, Ib."_

_She saw him swivel towards her, grinning at the fact she was safe and sound. The lighter flame gave his purple, messy hair a slightly pinkish accent. She couldn't see his full face under all of those curls and she couldn't see his clothes either but she could tell they were very peculiar and distinct. He was still very stunning. _

_He was very familiar._

She grabbed it, made her way to the front desk and purchased it without a second thought. Warmth. Light. Memories. At least, that's what Ib kept telling herself as she made her way home.

The locket and lighter were still there, to her relief. Ib fastened the lock for the necklace around her slender neck and took the lighter in hand. She sat down at her dressing table and was lost in her recollection of what happened in the shop.

_Purple hair_

_Peculiar clothes_

She still remembers the strange man she saw all in the gallery all those years ago. Could it be him...? Ib sighed deeply and traced the G on the lighter. So close, yet so far away.

xIxBx

_**COMING SOON: **_

_Her fingers glided over the keys, her eyes closed as she felt the music in her veins. _

"_That's beautiful Chopin, Ib."_

_Her fingers halted and she turned back towards her mother._

"_Nightmares again, huh?"_

_Ib looked at the grandfather's clock on the wall and saw it was 2.47 in the morning. She nodded at her mother and she sat besides the young girl, wrapping her arms around her. She tucked Ib under her chin and stroked her hair gently, holding her close._

"_The truth will set you free. Tell me what's wrong, my darling."_

_She says nothing. She'll never tell another soul or speak of the horror again._

**xTxBxCx **

AN: English names in Japan? I know... me too. Well... I blame the game maker/owner, Kouri, for giving me that kind of impression c: How was the chapter? I'll be happy to hear any sort of thoughts on the story C: And if you've noticed, lighters are always handy in a horror game :P Thanks for stopping by and giving this a try C: Update in 4 days.


	4. Chapter 3: Piano

Disclaimer: I do not own Ib or any of the elements in the game. They belong to their respective owner, Kouri; I am merely using them for my own creative amusement.

AN: I've realised I never got to thank the silent support I've gotten for the story in terms of views, favourites, follows and constructive critiques in the form of reviews. It really makes an author happy to know someone's taken an interest in their story, or voices their opinion. Thanks for stopping by C: Happy reading!

Note: This chapter has been revised from the original. Grammar has improved, conversations/flashback conversations make more sense and there is more flow to the narrative. There is new material too. Enjoy.

*Whispers* Ya might want to listen to the songs Ib is playing while reading the chapters, just saying *winks*Song recommendation: *Chopin Nocturne in C Sharp Minor No. 20 (Played by Ashkenazy)

**Chapter 3:**

**Japan, 1997**

-_5.5 years after the gallery-_

Her fingers glided over the keys, eyes closed as she felt the music in her veins.

"That's beautiful Chopin, Ib." Her fingers halted and she turned slowly to greet her mother at the entrance of the drawing room, "Nightmares again, huh?"

Ib looked at the grandfather's clock, smugly displaying 2.47 in the morning. *She nodded. Esme sat besides the young girl, wrapping her arms around her. She tucked Ib under her chin and stroked her hair gently, holding her close. It was a familiar gesture, one they often shared since she was a little girl. Now that Ib was growing up, her mother didn't get to do this very often.

"The truth will set you free. Tell me what's wrong, my darling."

Ib said nothing. It's very odd. When she was younger, facing the Gallery alone, she didn't feel as terrified as she did now, re-living it through nightmares. She didn't realise it wasn't right back then, that art pieces shouldn't move or talk, or try to kill you. She just... didn't react. She thought of nothing but getting back to her Mummy and Daddy. Ib only realised what an alarming situation she was in when she saw her parents in a painting.

Ib remembered how she was so weary, how tired she was of everything, she just wanted to go home. Now she was home, she still couldn't find peace. The strange nightmare she had inside the safe room had manifested itself into something else now, her sister Eve. There were quite a few memories she still hadn't uncovered yet. The act of ... something... burning... someone...

Her mother was looked at her, still expecting an answer.

"I just... everyone at school was being mean again."

A lie

"Oh? That's it? They're not bullying you are they?"

Just another lie to cover everything up

She had started lying a lot more nowadays, to hide or disguise what or why or how she was feeling. Recently, Ib had started lying about other things too, like where she went or who she went with when she goes out for hours on end. She would go to the empty fields nearby afterschool and just lie down on the soft grass, watching the bright blue sky until it transformed into night. She lied about how her art materials from years ago went missing, when she grabbed everything and burned them. She lied about trying smoking once too. She stole one cigar from her father's secret stash. She threw the rest of it away after trying one cancer stick. She hated it, both things. It bothered her was how easy twisting things had become and how talented she was at it.

Loner

Liar

Arsonist

Esme's loving face troubled Ib. She flushed and started feeling restless and feverish. While it was partially true, it was only because Ib let them be. The children at school were forever trying to befriend her, but she knew they only wanted her for her parent's wealth. When she rejects them, they reveal their true nature and spite her in every way possible. It didn't really bother her but apparently, it was good enough for nightmares.

"No, no bullying."

'You'll never understand.' Despite the denial, the worry never left Esme's face. She obeyed her maternal instincts, understanding at least something was wrong with her baby.

"We can... send for tutors here at home, if you like? You don't have to go to school, just take the main, national exams. You can play the piano as much as you like, too."

The ostracising wasn't too bad, really. She liked being alone anyway. The offer was very tempting but Ib doubted it would last for the rest of the night. She hopes it does, it was quite tiring going through the day just avoiding all of her peers.

"That'd be nice."

Her mother gave her another cuddle and closed the piano key board. She took Ib by her hand and led her back to her room, trying to savour a few last moments with her only daughter now.

"Why are they so mean to only you anyway?"

They want her wealth and allowance. They hate her red eyes and fine-quality clothes. They hate her quiet nature and how reserved she is from everyone. They pick on her because she's only one person, with no support from anyone.

_Liar_

_Liar!_

_LIAR!_

"_There's an odd one out in the room."_

She pushes away support and tries to find her deserted strength from that day in the gallery. She's quiet while the rest of them are lively. She's lonely when everyone else in that rich private school has friends. She's _the_ untouchable porcelain doll, because whoever breaks her face will pay the price in terms of family connections. Whoever breaks her spirit, however, would become the champion.

"I'm just the odd one out, Mum. It's fine."

xIxBx

"What's this?"

The sturdy, aged woman raises an eyebrow at the cheque her son placed on their dining table after he had cleared the plates. She had wanted to resume her painting but his serious expression stilled her. It wasn't the "talking shop" look or "I'm getting married" look. It was an "I'm going away and I don't know for how long" look. Sakura hunched over her green tea and crossed her arms.

"It's money. It should be enough for at least six months worth of bills for electricity and heating, groceries and all the fixed costs for the shop."

She spies his shaking knee under the table. He's nervous.

"What are you doing, Garry?"

"I'm going away for a while, learn new skills, maybe even meet new people. I need you to run the shop while when I'm gone, Ma. You can change the opening and closing time to whatever suits your needs. I've got enough stock to last for about seven months, I think, because I've been carving more than necessary for a while now-"

"Garry, what are you talking about-?"

"It's going to be alright, Ma. I've got pretty much everything planned out. I'll write to you when I go to a new city, maybe send a postcard and I'll bring back some souvenirs for you too-"

"Garry, where are you-"

"I can't wait to go, but I think a bit more money and stock for the shop is good, so I'm staying here another 6 months-"

"Garry, why-"

"I'm going to the US first, then down to the South. After that, I'm going to England. I've read they've got quite the woodcarvers guild there. Then, Europe is going to be so gorgeous. I plan to go when the tulips are in season in the Netherlands. I'll try out Italian and French macaroons, because that's where they originated from-"

"Garry-"

"I'm going to go to Africa too, then go back up to Asia. I'm still not too sure about Australia, but I think it would be amazing if I tried and-"

"Gareth."

He stopped talking at her tone and looked at face, afraid to see what lay there now.

"Isn't Japan good enough for you? You're taking on the whole world. What's the reason behind this trip?"

His face drops, her heart tightens.

"I need to do this. I feel trapped in this city."

Her face softened, she felt it too. For the past few years, Sakura watched her son become such a recluse at first, and then he turned himself into a workaholic. Something inside of him was constantly on edge, even his gentle, feminine side was beginning to sleep. She wasn't exactly overjoyed by his effeminate habits, brought by rebelling against his overly-strict, elderly father, but she didn't enjoy this silent, gloomy Garry either.

"You were always like a caged bird, even as a child. I don't mind you leaving, and I can handle the shop until everything is sold. I just wanted you to tell me beforehand, when you first thought of this." She took a deep breath and looked into his natural coffee brown eyes, "You haven't been yourself lately either, this is good for you."

He hesitantly grinned, genuinely surprised at her lack of resistance.

"Ma-"

"I hope you find a nice girl out there."

Garry stammered something unintelligible.

"Ma! That's not why I'm going!"

"Alright, you can find a guy if you want to, I wouldn't mind adopted grandchildren running around. It'd be kind to give the lost ones a nice home."

"MA!"

Garry was blushing fiercely at the absurdity of her suggestion, his face the colour of the red roses in a vase on their dresser.

"There's nothing wrong with that dear, we're all the wonderful children of-"

"But I'm not gay! I genuinely like girls!"

She patted his cheek affectionately, delighted in the small glimpse of her cheerful, gentle, little boy again while he was talking. When he was younger, he used to be so enchanted and curious about everything, holding life in high regards. The old Garry was coming back. He may be a flustered, displeased, grown man at the moment, but she took no notice of it, preferring to stick to her impression of him.

Sakura grabbed the cheque, headed out of the room and left her son muttering disapprovals.

"Whatever you say, my dear. Wash the dishes for me, would you?"

He was worried if she would be fine on her own, but the years have been kind to her. She's much better, spirit in much better condition before he moved in. Garry frowned and the rolled up his sleeves, preparing for the long task ahead.

xIxBx

**England, 1998**

-_6 years after the Gallery-_

She bows low, overwhelmed by the thunderous applause of the audience.

The conductor was smiling at her; overwhelming pride from the orchestra members could also be felt. At first, they were sceptical of what a little girl could do, especially one that came along from family connections, with no experience from competitions. Once they heard her play, they were enchanted and were honoured to play beside her.

Her international debut was a success. The audience were enthralled by everything she did. Ib told herself to be thankful even if only one hundred people attended, but the news of a fifteen year old piano protégée playing with a famous orchestra and world-renowned conductor in the Royal Albert Hall, London, ensured a full house. Looking over the audience, she was surprised to see them giving her a standing ovation. Ib looked over at her parents in the front row and they looked extremely proud of her, hands clasped above their hearts. In one of the box seats above, her relatively new private secretary and manager nodded at her, a smug look on his face. Ib knew it was all thanks to him she had gotten this opportunity. She gave a bright smile back.

She was proud of herself.

Ib had played many concerts since she was a little girl, small ones, all for her parents and their friends. News spread fast about her talent but her parents didn't want to pressure her at a tender age like other child-prodigies. They remained adamant to let her grow up with a happy childhood, not one full of demanding schedules and countless overseas trips. Ib's parents cultivated her talent instead, brought her to see the world-class European symphonies, and to master classes with famous pianists. They decided it was her ultimately her choice what she wanted in life.

She chose music.

With this debut performance, she would have a larger audience for her own projects, her own charity concerts for all the children's hospitals in Japan, and then the more unfortunate children all over the world. She had big plans.

Ever since the agreed home tuition, she's been planning this. She has been volunteering at hospitals and orphanages, to open her eyes and find out more about the world and how she could help. The smiling faces of the children when Ib arrives always make her heart swell. It reminded me of her little sister and she was glad she could make other children happy, even if she can't do anything for their fate.

It's been three years since Eve went away and all Ib could do was deciding how she could help children. She played music for them in the hospitals. She played with them, told them stories about lands far away from Japan. For now, all she could do was made them laugh and that would be enough for her.

Ib walked through the narrow corridors on her way to the dressing room. Feeling drained after the exhausting performance, she leaned on the wall to catch her breath. It was a dark hallway, with little lighting. Something rustled nearby. Ib straightened and moved to the centre. The tiny hairs at the back of her neck stood up. She regretted telling the bodyguards Ellis had given her that she would be fine on her own. She looked back and saw nothing.

"_Beware of the edges"_

_Ib wondered what it meant. She walked around the tiny stand, unaffected by the message. Suddenly, a black, scaly arm rushed out of the wall and tried to grab her. She stumbled backwards to the other side and felt something sharp grasping at her shirt, plucking a petal away from her rose when she turned around. Her body weakened. Moving to the middle, where the arms can't reach her, she holds her rose close to her heart and moves forward. _

Ib held the bouquet she received close to her chest and ran forward until there was a wide, clear area. She waited and waited to hear the sound of snarling coming from the walls, or see dark shadows protruding from the edges.

It never did.

Ib looked around once more and scrambled when a rustling started again.

xIxBx

**United States of America, 1998**

He sits in the small cafe, enjoying his coffee and macaroons, just enjoying life in general.

The cool wind blows through his lavender hair and tattered coat, making quite a number of people stare at him. He didn't mind, he never did. The cafe was a lovely spot in town, quite famous for its latte art and cappuccinos. He was also pleasantly surprised to see the macaroons sitting daintily amongst the other pastries. There's a park nearby too, so he'll be busy seeing the flowers and lake there after he was done.

America.

Wow.

Garry was enjoying his long-awaited trip so far. He still bone tired from the flight, jetlag and change of sleeping habits, but he was really, really happy. No nightmares, no strange visions, no stress or guilt so far. Everything here was mostly strange and unfamiliar. His English was proficient enough, so he could be quite friendly with the locals if he wanted to.

Garry downed the last of his coffee, gathered his coat and set off towards the park, leisurely walking so he could enjoy the cool spring afternoon. He put his coat on and smoothed everything out using his hands. The soft, warm material had always comforted him, ever since he received it as a gift from his father. They may have argued on many levels as they both grew older, but the coat always brought back the happier times for Garry.

He would rummage through his father's old clothing and things on rainy days to find another "treasure" for his Ma to talk about, another story to tell, but on that particular day, she was busy. Instead, his father was home, working on a big project for a client.

"_Hey pa, what's this weird coat?"_

"_Oh that? I got it when I was younger... never really used it though. I think it would be too big for you now," His father gently draped the coat onto Garry's shoulders and watched as a large amount of the back swept the floor. "You can have it when you're older though, if you like. I don't wear it anymore. The design is a little rough-" _

"_I like it!"_

_The young boy's outburst put a smile on the aged man's weathered face. _

"_Alright Garry, you can have it. You can use it as a blanket in the mean time; it's quite warm on cold nights, very good quality material. I was lucky to find it in a charity shop one day, these sorts of coats don't come cheap brand new. Take good care of it, son. It suits you."_

_Little Garry puffed out his chest and gave his father a big grin. He ruffled his already messy, slightly curly black hair and placed the coat in the boy's room. While he went back to work, Garry was admiring the coat, feeling the softness and thickness of the material, contemplating the design of it._

He stopped next to the red rose bushes and Garry smiled to himself, allowing just one thought about the Gallery to come through since his arrival.

'The coat was almost double her height back then. How adorable'

xIxBx

**Japan, 1998**

-6.5 years after the Gallery-

Ib blushed a dark red at the sight which awaited her in her dream. A woman was sprawled in what looks to be a seductive pose, obviously naked underneath the sheet. It barely draped over her torso and private area, threatening to slip off. Stunned by the lack of coverage, Ib stepped back and a half-naked man passed right through her.

Her face was hot enough to fry an egg.

"Weiss, ma Cherie, I've missed you."

"I was only gone for two minutes, my dear Belle."

Overcoming her conservative and prudish upbringing, upon a closer look, Ib realised it was the same man from her dream about two years ago. His build was around the same, although much more muscular and his hair was slightly longer. The face that was so devoid of hope earlier beamed with love. She noticed the gold band on the woman's left ring finger and two silver bands on the man's left hand. It was on his ring and index finger.

'That snake...'

How much time has passed in this dream world?

The last time she had seen him, he was burying his first wife, selling his home and deserting his boy, telling him he "couldn't take care of him". What had happened? Ib suddenly grew angry at the man in front of her. What about his son? He used to be in the depths of poverty, grieving and now he's having a great life with a new wife? How dare he abandon that child! They embraced in bed and Ib looked away. A wave of nausea appeared and she almost gagged.

She placed a hand on the wall and felt it was solid, not ghostlike, it was completely different from the last dream. She could pick up objects too. Only the people were unable to interact with her this time around.

The woman giggled and Ib felt the sheet from earlier thrown to her feet.

'Oh... no...'

It was time to leave.

Ib tried to escape the room but for some reason, she couldn't walk out of the open door. Something invisible, yet solid was barring her exit. Ib felt cold sweat on her forehead. She tried to push gently, then with more strength but still couldn't get out. The lovers made a smacking sound. She didn't dare look back. Ib progressively became more violent, slamming and smashing and throwing heaving objects like vases. It didn't yield. Her kicks, body slams and any other method failed her completely too.

She was trapped here.

'Why...?'

The couple took no notice of her.

"I've always wanted a little girl."

"Oh?"

"A sweet, cheerful little girl with blonde hair and blue eyes, just like her daddy."

The phrase stopped Ib in her tracks and she turned around, scrutinised the man now, while they were not doing anything. His hair was shoulder length, waves of light brown mixed with a bit of gold here and there. He had electric blue eyes which reminded Ib of someone from long ago. A friend... a foe... someone not human...

Gold hair, blue eyes

"_Ib, no! What are you doing? Stop!"_

The words rang in her ear from a forgotten memory...

The woman, his wife, Belle, has curly black hair and brown eyes. They were quite common colours and features, but she was still incredibly beautiful. She was vibrant and happy, simply adoring him.

"While we wait for a real one to grow, I can paint you one, if you like?"

"_Listen Ib, there's something you should know..."_

She closed her eyes.

"Don't be ridiculous darling; you've still got so much on your plate. Do you want those people to be breathing down your neck, demanding to see an unfinished work?"

"As soon as I'm done, you'll have a daughter on canvas too"

"_Mary... she's not real."_

"What do you want to call her?"

"It would definitely... be Mary!"

"Merry like her mother?"

"Weiss!"

They laughed and cuddled, chatting cheerfully about nonsensical things. Ib didn't pay attention to any of it though, her thoughts still locked on the new and old pieces of information.

'Mary...?'

When she opened her eyes and focused, she was staring at her own bed canopy.

xIxBx

**England, 1999**

_-7 years after the Gallery- _

He sees it one day, in the small cafe in England and after months of peace, imagines her face once again. The single red rose on the table, tied with a blue ribbon stands proudly between a romantic couple. The girl was a brunette, and while she was laughing, head thrown back and eyes closed, he could just about see Ib, all grown up, doing the same thing.

He looks back at his own table and sees the yellow rose tied with a red ribbon. He grimaces. It's been 7 years now and he still hasn't seen her, or heard anything about her.** How is she? Where is she? What's she doing nowadays? Rarely did Garry allow himself to dwell during his trip/holiday, always immersing himself in nature or a woodcraft workshop or something interesting of the sort. He took a sip of his tea...

"What gold hair! She looks pretty enough to come from a painting!"

... And almost spit out his Earl Grey. The comment he heard shocked him. Garry swiftly located the sound of the noise and discovered an old woman cooing over an infant wearing a forest green dress. She had curly, golden hair and bright blue eyes that sparkled like the sea. The most significant feature that struck Garry was her uncanny resemblance to Mary. She was a perfect replica. The demon-spawn turned and smiled at him. His head snapped back to his table.

'Don't be ridiculous, Garry. Blondes, pictures and pretty girls are common and universal, I would find them anywhere. You're being paranoid.'

"What's her name?"

He tensed.

Not... not... not...

"Sarah."

Garry mentally chastised himself for being so paranoid. He looked back... and blinked.

What the hell was wrong with his eyesight?

What he thought was a younger, human version of Mary looked completely different now. Her golden hair was a much lighter shade, an almost platinum white blonde. Her eyes weren't sparkling or electric or anything ridiculous like that, just a nice, _normal_ shade of blue. Even her dress colour was just an ordinary turquoise, not forest green like Mary's. The sweet infant was still smiling at him, a big toothy grin, while the two women still chatted. He returned a hesitant smile.

Garry looked back at the rose on his table and instead of Ib, thought of Mary. He always thought he did the right thing that day, since Mary wasn't even human, and she tried to threaten them with a palette knife. They didn't have much of a choice. His conscience wouldn't leave him alone though. 'Just a little girl, just like Ib... Just a sad, lonely, little girl who wanted a friend and wanted to be loved...' If there was a way for all three of them to get out, together, he would have taken it.

He shook his head and continued eating his cake, uncomfortably trying to ignore the image of Mary in that little girl again.

xIxBx

**France, 1999**

-7.5 years after the Gallery-

The fates were not kind to him that day.

_The beautiful Ib takes Europe by storm! Be enchanted by the piano and enjoy her exquisite playing at her non-profit charity concert. Details are listed below..._

Garry was a perceptive person. He liked to observe things and think about life and beauty from the smallest ladybird to the vastness of the universe. He liked to watch how people interacted with each other and the world around them. Ever since the gallery though, this acute sense had been dulling slowly, sapping away from his until he was completely oblivious to even large posters decorating the concert hall next to him.

If he had seen it, he would have cancelled his plans, seen her perform and tried his utter best to meet Ib after her concert. She would have been overjoyed, finally meeting the kind phantom of her memories. It would be oddly romantic, meeting again in the streets of Paris, after a piano concert... alas, it was not meant to be.

Garry's mind was set on the macaroon shop at the corner of the street, very close to the busy market. Headphones snugly fitted, the man in dark sunglasses was enjoying the crisp, autumn air fluttering around him while listening to Vivaldi. He had been saving quite a bit that week so he could enjoy the macaroons while strolling by the beautiful Parisian architecture. Garry couldn't wait to enjoy himself, he only had three days left in Paris before taking a train ride to Germany.

He entered the shop, took off his headphones, spoke warmly to the lady behind the counter in French and ordered a box of macaroon to take with him. They looked beautiful. Satisfied with a box in hand, he paid and placed his headphones back on his lilac hair. Garry exited the shop, heading towards the market to buy some apples.

On the way though, he sees another interesting looking bookshop. Enchanted with the beautiful designs, he decides to go in and have a look.

The fates were not kind to her that day either.

After staying too late at the dinner party yesterday night, the young lady kept sniffling underneath her large bulky coat and knitted hat. Her business manager, Ellis, roped her into a high-class dinner party for more publicity after her concert. Her father kept his arm tightly looped around her and gave her a kind smile. The young lady's garnet eyes were incredibly expressive, saying thank you, while her mouth remained shut and face remained emotionless.

"Ellis is tough, but he means well. I've known the young man for several years, darling. He's an incredible businessman and agent, very hardworking, and you should listen to him. Don't be afraid to tell him your opinions though, or if you're tired either, love. He'll take care of you."

"I know, Daddy. He's just a little demanding."

Aside from the sniffle, she also had a sore neck from sleeping oddly on her mattress (she curled into a ball, head missing the pillow) and a slight limp from falling over on her high heels. Looking at a large Rottweiler nearby, growling at her, walked by its owner, and her poor health, it just wasn't her day.

Snapping out of her self-pitying thoughts, Ib gave herself a big smile, hidden by a large scarf, and looked up to cheer herself up with the thought of macaroons. She started humming Edward Elgar's Salut d'Amour. Last night, she had another little snippet at the mysterious man of her dreams, seeing his back standing in a bright, orange sunlight.

"_Ib, have you heard of macaroons? They're these pastries shaped like hamburgers and just the other day, I had one at a cafe and it was soooo tasty! It was really, really good! Even the cream wasn't too sweet. So, uh, if we get out of here, could we go there together? ... No wait, we WILL be going there! And we will get out! Promise!"_

He's unbelievably sweet.

In the morning, she wanted to try macaroons for the first time.

Until now, she still couldn't quite picture him, but she had a vague idea of what he looked like. She was absolutely positive now he was connected with the man she talked to at the 'Embodiment of Spirit' sculpture. How many people had purple hair? They could be the same person... She didn't know his name, she didn't see his full face at her height and yet she felt so connected to him. She doesn't remember his face now, but she hopes she does soon. Ib was certain his face was the key to unlocking the rest of the memories, not just his voice, or his smiles or his kind actions.

'Goodness me, I sound like a girl with a crush'

She blushed.

'A crush on a complete stranger...'

She stopped humming.

In the middle of her thoughts, a man exits the macaroon shop. He had headphones on and large sunglasses covering his face but his hair was clearly visible: Light purple with dark streaks at the top. Something clicked in Ib's mind. Purple hair, that coat he's wearing, the tattered design... he was unmistakable.

"Ib, what are you doing!?"

She ran off and headed towards what she saw, not stopping to think about the traffic or the vicious, hulking dog that looked ready to chase her. Her heart was pounding and her breath quickened with what she thought was going to be an extraordinary find.

Almost there...

She stopped at the end of the corner and Ib's large smile dropped when she saw nothing. The street was filled with Parisians going about on their business, entering and leaving shops and just enjoying the beautiful day. The market was jam packed with people and yet she didn't see anyone with her description in mind.

"IB! Young lady! Honestly!"

'Why...?'

"Don't go running off like that! It's dangerous!"

She was forcibly dragged by her hand. Her father was much stronger than she gave him credit for. Ib was forlorn, continuously looking back, feeling like crying out of frustration.

'But... he was there... just...'

At the macaroon shop, Ib ordered in fluent French and her father went to sit down; she then quietly conspired with the lady behind the counter.

Was there a man with purple hair and a tattered coat here, earlier?

Yes, mademoiselle.

Ib clutched at her sweet locket and frowned, relieved to hear she didn't imagine him and again, dejected with the lack of said person. What she did just then was based purely on instincts. It felt like she was about to come face to face with an old friend, or a dearly beloved. She fiddled with her necklace and wondered who exactly her friend in the gallery was.

Someone special

Someone extraordinary

She vows to find him again someday, soon.

xIxBx

_**COMING SOON:**_

_Without warning, he lurched forward. The teenager grabbed a handful of his shirt and brought Garry closer. The emotions on his face were hardly decipherable. Their position made him seem dangerous, but there was a shred of concern in his eyes. He didn't appear angry, but he was definitely intense. _

"_They're going to get both of you."_

"_What-?"_

"_When she remembers the full truth, you remember this; Six, two, nine, five."_

**xTxBxCx**

AN: The fates were not kind to them, hmm? ;) Does anyone know Garry's cannon eye-colour? Some say brown, blue, amber etc... In the game drawings it's pretty much black so my head-cannon for this story is brown :P If the cannon really is something else, then I'll change it again. If there are any grammatical mistakes, spelling errors or inconsistencies in our lovely story please let me know C: Thoughts on this chapter? Thanks for reading! C: Take care! I'll see you in 4 days ;3

**History lesson time: YouTube was founded in 2005, then quickly grew into one of the largest websites in 2006. Facebook was founded on February 24, 2004 by Mark Zuckerburg. Myspace was launched in August 2003. Therefore, this was the age of pure romance and friendship before technology came in and people became glued to laptops and computers ^_^ You couldn't stalk people as easily as now, so Garry genuinely wouldn't know about Ib becoming all cool and famous unless she was on TV, the papers or the internet. He's too busy gawking at everything on the Champs-Elysees to notice anything else ;D


	5. Chapter 4: Morph

Disclaimer: I do not own Ib or any of the elements in the game. They belong to their respective owner, Kouri. I am merely using them for my own creative amusement.

AN: *awkward chuckle* Well... 4 days sure fly huh? I'm gonna stop making promises about chapter releases, RL always pop up somehow. The timeline is going to slow down here, so the entirety of the chapter does happen in the relatively same time frame. Thanks for stopping by. Happy reading!

Note: This chapter has been revised from the original. Grammar has improved, conversations/flashback conversations make more sense and there is more flow to the narrative. There is new material too. Enjoy.

Different emotions run through this chapter and I'm not too sure either, the song recommendation(s) would be those with the asterisk (*) this time.

*Schumann Piano Sonata No.2 in G Minor Op. 22 (I like the one played at Nodame's competition in Nodame Cantabile) **The Gallery Theme :3 Corelli La Folia

***Rachmaninoff Piano Concerto No. 2 in C minor, Op 18. (Played by Richter)

Chapter 4:

**Japan, 2001**

-_9 years after the gallery-_

"Honestly! It's no wonder they call you a vampire, look at you!"

The smiling, chattering woman pulled back the curtains of Ib's room, opened the windows and looked back at the girl in question. She just remained cocooned, unresponsive to Ayden's efforts to cheer her up. The smile quickly dropped. Growling at the pitiful sight of the childish girl, she stomped over to the bed and threw the duvet on the floor. A hint of a scowl rested on her baby face.

"Rise and shine, sugar cube! Get your skinny arse off this bed now. Your parents want you downstairs."

"Go away."

"No."

The two women glared at each other. Ayden balled her fists and stuffed them down her stylish jean pockets, a muscle in her eye and nose twitching from anger. Ib's red face peeked under her long fringe and she got off from the bed unsteadily. Wobbling a little, the petite woman made her way to the window, slipping a blue pashmina shawl abandoned on the seat loosely around her arms.

"You may be sick, stressed, sad or whatever, but that's no excuse for not replying to me... or hiding yourself away, even if you do look terrible... like now."

She faced the cool glass, calm and still, all of the building anger dissipated. Ayden harrumphed. "We should chop off your head and stick a mannequin in its place for all the expressions you make." She sighed, "Such a waste of a pretty face. You're either aloof... or aloof."

From the Venetian windows, she could see the estate's large gardens where she and Eve used to play. It comforted her to look back on those days, where people generally left her alone, when all she needed was one person. Her life nowadays was too chaotic for her liking. Ib briefly pondered how long Ayden was going to keep up the sweetness facade.

It was already slipping fast.

"Moody much? Sheesh! So they posted one mean article, so what? From Europe to Japan, at least you're famous now! All that's left is America." Ib remained silent. Ayden huffed at her lack of reaction. She smirked and continued to jab at the frustrated girl.

"Honestly, I don't see why people are so obsessed with you, making up stories about you and trying to take pictures of you. You don't even smile that much. You should, you know, it's good for publicity-"

"I didn't do it for the publicity."

"Well, if you want the money for charity, you need the people. Since you need the people, you have to play nice. You have to dress up and put on makeup and smile for the cameras"

Hearing the sound of footsteps approaching, Ayden dashed to Ib's dressing table mirror and whipped out her lipstick. While inspecting and fixing her already gorgeous reflection, she gave a wink to Ib when she caught her staring. Ib watched with indifferent eyes, not entirely sure why she did these ridiculous things.

Ayden was her father's close colleague's daughter, a stunning twenty two year old fashion designer. They had become close friends after her Europe trip and their mothers introduced them. Esme and William entered, heading straight for Ib, giving her a firm group hug.

Her mother looked at her up and down, frowning at her pale lips. "Won't you have a late breakfast with us? You must be starving. Don't let those tabloids get you down."

"Aunt Esme has a point. You mustn't let the opinion of others judge your path Ib. Didn't you want to do this on your own terms? Just ignore them."

'What an impression to make, oh high and mighty Ayden.' Ib thought.

"Ayden's right, sweetie. We know it's a little tough for you right now, with the horrible gossip and nasty rumours, but you have to brush it aside." Ib watched as Ayden beamed, hopped over and placed a hand on her father's forearm. She gave him one of _those_ cutesy smiles she usually reserved for her typical victims of charm.

"You really think so, sir? Thank you!" He gave her a natural smile, completely unaffected by her tactics.

_Smile for the cameras._

Ib shuddered and wrapped the shawl even tighter.

It made Ib's stomach turn. Ayden had become a quite a close friend to her, and it was disgusting watching her do these very, very weird things. Her father didn't notice anything, only having eyes for her mother. The thought of Ayden going after him was incredibly unsettling, if it were true. She may have been a little flirty and strange, coarse and brutal, but she usually meant well. Recently though, she was becoming a lot snippier and curt with Ib, almost... despising her? Her father stroked her hair, coaxing a soft, sad expression from Ib's face.

"It's good that you're taking this break for a short while, but soon you'll want to get back on stage right? You can't hide from the paparazzi and vultures forever, Ib. You have to fight them head on when you're ready."

"Why can't they accept the fact I'm quiet? That I'm reserved?" She pulled up her knees to her chest and laid her head down on top of them.

"Well, the mob wants sensational superstars and sensational stories, everyone knows that."

"Oh dear, you could always go back to school or go to college if you want, once you pass the exams-"

"It's not too bad just smiling-"

"Just don't worry-"

"I can already see it, roses everywhere! Just brush it aside-"

"Ib-"

"Ib, dear-"

"Ib!"

The list of unnecessary headache inducing advice and tips continued piling whilst Ib continued to fume. She wasn't running away, she wasn't going to fight either. It doesn't matter what she did or say about herself, the media would find a way to twist her words. They were completely missing the point too. This wasn't about her. The freshest gossip was unacceptable, and she will not just "brush it aside".

"They were talking about Eve"

Everyone was immediately quiet.

"I have no idea how they found out about her. I don't care if they think I am lesbian. I don't care if they think I'm a vampire. I don't care if it's about me. When they start talking about Eve in that horrible way, putting her in such a... _distorted_ light... that's enough. I'm putting my foot down."

"I didn't know you could speak more than five words." Ib glared at Ayden, irritated at the inappropriate humour. William tapped his chin, thinking about how he could help his daughter.

"I'll sort it out for you Ib. I'll talk to Ellis, he'll find an answer and a good lawyer. Just hang tight-"

"They're stripping away who I am," She cuts him off. She looks at the window, remembering better days even with her solitude. At least no one judged her when she was younger. "They're taking away my integrity and my personality. I hate it. Why can't they just leave me alone?"

"Well, we could always chop your head off, to save you the trouble. No one would mind you being headless; they only want your fingers, after all."

Ib looked at Ayden and wondered why she mentioned decapitated heads _twice. _When she was nicer, she was eloquent and liked to teach Ib ways to charm people. One of the golden rules was to never, _ever_ repeat herself.

"Ayden, please stop, that's not helpful."

Ayden laughed at Esme, claiming it to be a joke, but something in her expression seemed a bit too serious. Ib remembers headless black models, with red, blue and yellow dresses chasing her around the art gallery. Before she entered the other world, she had asked a man what the title of the art piece was and what it meant.

Death of the individual

When they don't have heads, they don't have a face. They lose their expressions and their ability to speak for themselves. They lose their personality and their individuality. The individual dies, surrendering themselves to the masses, to think of whatever they want to. They mould you and you have no choice but to comply.

She looked at her only escape and stood up.

Ib walked to the stand up piano in the room and starts playing a more *desperate, rapid piece, ignoring the other occupants. Her parents looked at her and each other before going out, giving Ib some privacy. Ayden didn't much value in staying, so she internally surrendered and she clicked her heels away from the room.

'This girl is an idiot. There's always another day. I'll convince her to play again; she can't stop until he finds her.'

xIxBx

'3 years and it's still all the same.'

"Oh Garry, you're so skinny! You were already stick-thin when you went, now look at you! You should have taken care of yourself more. Oh my baby boy, how did you survive?"

Only half listening, he watched his mother from the corner of his eye bustle about the kitchen, organising things as he washed the dishes from dinner. She was still quite sturdy for her age, although he noticed a few more wrinkles on her dear face since he last saw her. His mother was still her bubbly, busy self that was always taking care and fussing over others.

"Now that you're home, I'm going to fatten you up again. Mark my words, darling! You'll be eating proper meals at proper times and go to bed early like a good boy. I won't let you work so hard at the shop either! You're resting now."

"Ma! I'm twenty seven; I can take care of myself!" He laughed at her classic behaviour of treating him like a child. He never thought he would miss it, but he did. For now, he would enjoy being spoiled and then treat her when she's older.

"When you're in your mother's house, you follow her rules, Garry. If you're thinking of going back to your apartment, I refuse to let you go for another year at least." He grinned at the unusual childishness today too. "Goodness knows how I've missed you."

His hands stilled at sudden change in tone.

"I know, Ma. I know." He gave her a reassuring smile and finished rinsing the last plate in the sink. "I'm going for a walk, fresh air and all that good stuff."

"Alright, dear. Take care. Don't stay out too late, or you'll catch a cold."

Garry gave his mother the hundredth hug of the day and went out through the back door. He took a deep breath, needing to clear his head. He walked a straight path, expression and heart dropping as he contemplated his day, before he greeted his mother in the evening. He was surprised at how quickly he accepted the insane development in his life. He blamed the constant nightmares and hallucinations for the conditioning.

Putting his hands into his pockets, he took out the piece of scrap paper he had scribbled furiously on earlier. He gave a heavy sigh, still utterly confused at the puzzle in his hand. Looking around his surroundings, he realised... he's gone back here.

The beaten house stared at him with lifeless windows, the door mouth gaping wide open. He sneered at it and quickly marched away, disgusted by his own madness. At his age, he shouldn't be afraid of abandoned houses. What was wrong with him? Feeling far away enough from the house, he took out the piece of paper once more and his right eyebrow ticked.

Stupid piece of... screw the numbers!

He strode off with a chill settling in his bones, heading back home. He sneezed and grimaced. He was determined not to think of it yet, somehow his own mind was against him. He looked back in time with frustration.

It was a gorgeous summer afternoon when he finally arrived at his doorstep, exhausted by the walk from the bus station. He hauled his extra large luggage through the garden of his parent's house and noticed that his mother's shoes were missing. 'She must be out,' he thought. He lifted the flower pot hanging near the doorway and thanked the stars that the spare key was still there. He shoved his luggage into the house and made his way out, breathing in the familiar scent of the neighbourhood he grew up in.

"Play time's over. You've returned." He whispered to himself, "Welcome home, Garry."

Wanting to celebrate his return, he locked the door and headed off to the nearest cafe. On the way, though, he spotted some kids playing a bit rough on the rooftop of a house close by. He stopped, concerned about their safety. He was about to shout up at them before he realised, 'Is that... rope in his hand?!' The larger, meaner kids laughed cruelly as one of them knotted the rope tightly around a skinnier boy's ankle. Then, he pushed.

"Hey! What are you kids doing?!"

They jumped away, disappeared, and left a poor boy hanging from his foot. He was screaming and shouting in pain and fear, begging the empty streets for help. Garry quickly looked for the fire escape and ran to rescue him. The end of the thin rope was tied to a crumbling chimney and threatened to snap at any second.

"Hold on!"

"To what?!"

Garry raced to the edge and hastily tried to pull the boy up. He screamed in while Garry struggled and hauled the rope up as fast as he could. Exhausted from travelling and lack of proper sleep, but muscles honed from years of experience, he was fighting against the fatigue. The rope didn't want to grip onto his fingers either. He heaved and tugged when finally he could reach out for the boy's calf. He pulled him up using the last of his strength.

"I've got you!"

Both red faced and panting, they collapsed on the rooftop, bathing in the late afternoon sun. Garry turned to look at the boy and realised why he was so heavy. He may have been skinny, but he was tall and lanky. The boy turned and Garry realised from his sharp face structure that he must be at least seventeen. He was pulling an almost adult, not a child. They got up slowly and Garry held out a hand, smiling, and introduced himself.

"I'm Garry. I was just passing by earlier, when I noticed you and your friends. Are you alright?"

The teenager looked neither happy nor grateful. His dark, almost black eyes unsettled Garry, making him recall another picture in the Art Gallery all those years ago.

"U-Um, is something the matter?"

The familiar stranger continued to stare at him, unmoving.

Without warning, he lurched forward. He grabbed a handful of his shirt and brought Garry closer to his face. The determined visage was hardly decipherable. Their situation made him seem dangerous, but there was a shred of concern in his eyes. He didn't appear angry, but he was definitely intense. Garry was about to retort before the boy spoke in a low, menacing voice.

"They're going to get the both of you."

Garry's eyes widened and he tried to make the boy unhand his shirt. That one, simple sentence sent a chill down his spine in terror, fearing for his and Ib's life all over again. Even after all these years, the nightmare was over... so why wouldn't this stop?

"What-?"

"When she remembers the full truth, you remember this; Six, two, nine, five." The teenager pushed him away and jumped down the fire escape. Garry tried chasing him, but stopped after he reached the ground. There was no point; he completely vanished when he turned the corner. Garry ran a hand through his longer hair in frustration.

He leaned on the wall nearby and slid down, shaking. The numbers made no sense, the boy had no sense and he was losing his own sense of reality.

'This can't be happening.'

He went away, far, far away to escape all of this. It seems as though they'll never stop chasing him. They will never let him forget.

Again and again and again

xIxBx

Ib felt goose bumps rising on her upper arm and rubbed the sleeveless area. Gripping tightly on to her consciousness, refusing to faint, the mantra 'They can't hurt you, they can't hurt you...' repeated in her head again and again. She backed away slowly and spun, recognising each and every one of the works displayed. **

People walk straight through her body, once again luminous and hollow, admiring the painting and sculptures while whispering about purchasing a few. Ib walked down the crowded art exhibition in her sheer nightdress, trembling at the sight of Death of the Individual and staring back at the more benevolent ones.

'Is this... the day of the gallery?'

She ran forward barefoot, hoping, wishing it was true and tried to spot a tall man with purple hair in a strange coat. She doesn't though, and she realises that some of the artist's more prominent works weren't here either. Where was the Hanged Man, Embodiment of Spirit, or even Lady in Red? People here dressed differently too, like they were in an era of days long past. Then, she sees him. The light brown hair with gold streaks was a little shorter this time, yet the blue eyes still electric. He smiles and nods to people and yet his eyes are ever constantly searching for someone.

'Belle,' she mused. 'It's another one of these dreams.'

A new person sauntered up to him, decorated with jewellery at every possible place available with an escort looming nearby. She had long brown hair and amber eyes that seemed to glow in the brighter lighting. The most captivating aspect of her appearance though, would be the colour of her dress. The rich, intense shade of crimson of fresh blood was quite distinct. She gives him a coy look and pouts her dark red lips seductively.

Ib came to a standstill, every fibre of her body fighting the urge to run.

The escort introduced the pair and stood slightly farther away, pretending to be interested in Worry and not trying to eavesdrop on the two. She begins her assault on him, complimenting and praising his work, trying to entice him over with charms. The plain tactic irritated him and he tried, gently as he could, to steer her away from him.

Her eyes briefly met the escort's behind him and her head tilted slightly to the left, while she smiled and pretended to be interested in what the artist had to say. The escort brings them both champagne and he was compelled to oblige her. Ib almost felt sorry for him, immediately understanding why the Ladies in the Portraits were so ruthless and relentless.

She noticed his fiddling, so similar to her own little tics here and there. His fingers would twitch every few seconds and his clear aggravation made his jaw grind. Finally, he snapped. He places a hand on her elbow and leans in to attract her attention. It was thoroughly attracted. He tried to makes his voice heard from the increasing volume of the crowd in the gallery and the woman smiled seductively.

"My lady, it has been a pleasure conversing with you, but-"

"Weiss?"

Ib head that voice speaking that name years ago, but somehow it still remained fresh in her mind. His arm shot away from the red woman and his face drained in colour. Something was very wrong. He blinks several times and something caught in his throat, rendering him speechless. The haughty woman raised an eye in Ib's direction and then stumbled back clumsily, suddenly frightened.

Ib spun round to look at Belle... and sees a deranged woman holding a knife.

Oh.

She was no longer in the gallery, but in a small apartment kitchen. Belle's hair was in a mess, her eyes bloodshot. The warm glows coming from the kitchen light did nothing but sallow her complexion and made her look even sicklier. The beautiful, joyful woman from the last dream was gone and traded for this pregnant, jealous and slightly unhinged copy.

She turns and sees Weiss Guertena in an apron splattered with red paint, hair dishevelled and a long cut on his left cheek. It looked slightly healed, perhaps one or two days old. Ib can glimpse a bubbling fury from his calm facade at his wife's misunderstanding.

She wonders where the happy, sappy, honeymoon sweetness from the last dream vanished to.

"When are you getting over this? It was two nights ago."

"You think you can do whatever you want, don't you Guertena? You think just because you rescued some poor little orphan girl from an _isolated beach_, from the _spectacle of century's end_, means you can do whatever you want to her?! She means nothing to you, does she?"

"For the last time, I have done NOTHING to upset you. I did nothing to that woman!"

"Weren't you getting all cosy with her? Chatting her up closely and stroking her arm like some... some...harlot!"

"You're exaggerating!"

"How dare you accuse me of such things?! I saw you!"

"You didn't see everything!"

"What's that suppose to mean?!"

If Guertena painted Mary with Belle's words in mind, he might have been thinking of Belle's disturbingly unreal temper and jealousy too. Ib shied away from the fighting lovers and entered another room full of canvases and paint. Moonlight seeped in from the wide open curtains. She picks up a palette knife on the table near the easel, feeling the weight of it in her hand. She glanced at the work in progress and almost dropped the knife onto her foot. Ib walked back slowly, not daring to breath too deeply in case it angered the woman staring at her.

A blood red dress and long dark hair, with hardly any jewellery and a pair of glowing crimson eyes, the woman was the epitome of dangerous passion. Her red eyes indicated anger, fervour and jealousy. The tilt of her chin gave an aura of aristocracy and arrogance. She was a blend of the flirtatious woman and the monster his wife secretly harboured, a psychotic beauty waiting for her chance to strike.

Here she was, in all of her glory.

"Put the damn knife down!"

"Don't tell me what to do!"

The loud stabbing sound was heard. Ib feared silence, but the voices were rising to a crescendo. She sighs in relief and walked back into the kitchen.

"You're neurotic you know that? I'm going out." He started to undress and changed into a more presentable front. The demon inside rapidly left a more shaken Belle to handle the situation. She panicked. She chased after him, tugging on his shirt, begging, pleading him.

"Weiss, please don't! Don't leave me! Stay with me, stay with me. Weiss, come back! Please!"

He slammed the door to her face and she crumbled. Belle fell to her knees and sobbed her heart out, clutching her unborn child with her thin arms. Ib could see that it wasn't an easy pregnancy. She tried placing a ghostly hand on the woman's shoulders and jumped back when it was solid. Belle slowly looked back, directly at her. Eyes brimming with tears, she whispers one final plea before the world turned black.

"Please. Please don't leave me."

xIxBx

He snarls in disgust and storms away, maddened by his luck. The last two tickets were sold out five minutes ago, when he was closing the family shop for the day. There was always something in the way, be it sold out tickets, work commitments or last minute customers. Since his world trip, Garry was a bit short on cash so he couldn't buy the tickets when they were too expensive either.

He sat in one of his favourite outdoor cafes by the sea, glaring at his cup of black coffee.

"Mind if I join you, Gareth?"

He looked up and his heart almost stopped at the gold hair and blue eyes. He keeps trying to avoid these types of woman, but they seem to be flocking to him. Upon a closer inspection however, he sees a familiar face behind all of the shiny hair. She was looking at him expectantly and he curiously wonders why she was alone. The older man she married about a decade ago was nowhere to be seen.

"That glare was a disservice to your beautiful face, Gareth; you look so much older and meaner. The coffee was absolutely terrified too."

"Haha, very funny," he retorted dryly, pulling up a chair for her and ordered a slice of strawberry cake. "Such a sense of humour, Mrs. White. I haven't heard it in more than a decade, how are you?"

"Perfectly fine, thank you. And you?"

"I'm... great. Where's...?"

"I'm a widow now." She daintily takes a bite of her cake and gouged his surprised reaction before continuing. "He had an... accident. His older body couldn't handle the stress and he passed on."

"I'm sorry for your loss."

Her eyes became glassy for a second before she blinked the strange moment away, smiling again. "With freedom and money, I've come back to teach literature at the local high school again. I can't believe I taught you fourteen years ago, I feel so old now! How are you?"

"Well... time passes... on..." he finished lamely. He wasn't quite sure how to act around her, unable to find solid ground when she started talking. He took a sip of his coffee using his left hand and almost spurted it out when he heard her next few words.

"You're so handsome now, why aren't you married yet?"

He spluttered and hacked, cursing the coffee for going down the wrong pipe. Mrs. White did nothing to help him, simply laughing hysterically at his misery.

"So what are you up to now? Are you an artist, a photographer, or a fashion designer? I remember you had so much potential when you were younger."

"None of the above. I run my father's old business, the woodcarving shop. Mother says that it would be a shame to let it go, considering it's been around for a few generations now-"

"-I should stop by sometime! It would be lovely to see your mother again." Her impulsive and suddenly curious nature was a bit... odd to Garry. She used to be a very patient and gentle person. She was fond of her students, yet never invading or flirtatious. 'No one stays the same forever,' he chided himself.

"That'd be nice. Why are you teaching literature now? You used to teach art when I was younger."

"You need a change after a while Garry. Change is good." She twirled a lock of golden hair around her finger, flipping it back when she became bored. He noticed darker, much darker, roots. "Sometimes, if one stays in one place for a _long_ time, one could pretty much go insane."

That statement hit home. The dark look on her face made him nervous. She perked up once more when she resumed eating her cake. Garry rubbed his face slowly, absorbing her weirdness. His eyes wandered and fell on a wall with a recent poster of another concert in town. He felt a blood vessel in his forehead pulsing and quickly looked away. His teacher noticed though.

"Say Garry, have you ever heard of the pianist Ib?" He nodded with a bit of difficulty.

"Y-yeah, I have-"

"The girl's mysterious and enchanting at the same time. The amount of emotions she put into each and every piece is admirable. People can't get enough of her, she's everywhere!"

"Ahah, that's true. I just-"

"-And yet, no one really know much about her. She's known to be very shy and reserved about her family life. Have you seen her play live yet?"

"No, I haven't-"

"Ahh, thank goodness!" Garry tried his hardest not to glare at her for continually cutting him off. "I'm very lucky today; I managed to get the last two tickets and they're box seats too, a little more expensive than the rest."

Garry stared at her.

"So do you have a friend to go with you? "

"I was hoping to pick up a date today," she smiled at him cheekily and added, "You've grown into quite a fine man. A bit more effeminate than I imagined, but still quite handsome, as I've said" She finished off the last of her cake by licking the cream off her finger. She looks at him alluringly. He gulps, uneasy.

"So. Garry. Are you free in three weeks time?"

xIxBx

Fresh blue roses weren't natural in this world. They were either the white rose dyed blue or genetically modified by scientists. He saw them in the flower shop while buying a bouquet of yellow flowers and bought a single piece, not even blinking at the ridiculous price. This was a special flower for a special girl, the only girl he would give his blue rose to.

For her, he would do anything.

Garry adjusted his tie in the mirror and tweaked his slicked back hair a little, making sure every strand was in place. Eyes continuously glancing to his right, he smoothed his tuxedo once more and tucked the blue flower into his breast pocket.

As he made his way downstairs, Sakura beamed up at him, delighted in her son's sudden initiative in his love life. She placed her cup of tea down on the table next to the bills and walked him out, chatting and teasing him about the yellow bouquet. Garry felt a bit bothered not telling his mother exactly _who _his date was, but she wouldn't exactly approve of going on a date with a former teacher.

"Have a good night, sweetie. Enjoy your concert."

"Thanks Ma, I'm off."

"_Oh ho, interested? Here's your ticket." Mrs. White passed him a golden ticket and took out her purse to pay for the cake. She refused any type of negotiation on his part and insisted on being independent. "It's perfectly alright, Gareth. I'm a grown woman, not a little girl on her first date. Remember, seven o'clock at our box seat. Don't be late."_

_The sudden kiss on his cheek left him confounded, unable to process anything for a good minute. "It was lovely seeing you again, Garry. Please, call me Marilyn from now on." She walked off. _

_He didn't even realise the slip in name._

The drive was quite long, and he had time to think. Garry was exceptionally surprised at how forward she was. Mrs. White used to be quite a timid person, now she was blunt and bold, brazen enough to wheedle a date, a kiss and first name basis in their first meeting in years.

The concert hall was beautiful and massive, grand in its design and architecture. He admired it while making his way towards the stage in the quickly packing hall. A grand piano awaits its player and Garry grinned, unable to contain his excitement of seeing her face in person again. Looking upwards towards his seat, he found an older woman smiling, crooking a finger at him.

Making it up the stairs, a niggling feeling at the back of his mind prodded mercilessly, making his unconscious guilt known. He had ulterior motives coming here, instead of enjoying his night spent in the company of a lovely lady, an old friend.

She looked lovely too. Her wavy blonde hair was pinned up and she was wearing a dark, navy blue, empire waist dress. It was ankle-length and it complimented her more mature figure nicely. The material was loose and flowing, gorgeous in any setting.

Garry handed her the bouquet and she was astonished to see the yellow roses there. She perks up immediately. "How did you know yellow roses are my favourite?"

"Sorry miss, I didn't." She pouted slightly at his cheeky grin and swatted his arm lightly

"The chrysanthemum are lovely too, you have good taste."

"Thanks."

"Ah Garry, you're so sweet. I really like the pink roses here too, but I especially adore blue ones. They're quite rare here aren't they?" She eyes his breast pocket for a moment and Garry felt the urge to hide it from her, for a strange reason. She looked... hungry for it.

Déjà vu

The tuning of the orchestra prodded him back to reality. The applause and whistling of the crowd tore through their intimate bubble and Garry snapped out of his daze. He looked to the stage and sees a beautiful young woman making her way to the grand piano. It's been nine years since the art gallery, so she must be eighteen now. He put a hand over his blue rose and smiled at her.

Look at how she's grown.

Her smooth hair is waist-length now, compared to the shorter shoulder length he remembers. She's much taller too, now that she's an adult and she's wearing much fancier clothes. She was still quite small for her age though. Her skin is milky white and despite her emotionless face, even from this distance, her garnet eyes are wide open and expressive. He briefly wonders how she would react to seeing him again.

The concert began and he is transfixed, completely enthralled in her music. ***Rachmaninoff surged forward from the orchestra and she is simply incredible. The initial dark tone reminded him of Guertena's Art Exhibition, but the softer undercurrent that followed made the more cheerful times sweep through him. It was amazing, talking with her in the safe room, talking to her under the fake sunlight, just merrily chatting while walking to comfort her. Her playing is grand, haunting, captivating and euphoric all at once.

The piano concerto finishes and he's in a daze. The entire hall gives her a standing ovation and she bows long in appreciation. People are throwing roses, even though she will get an official bouquet, and she smiles serenely at the audience, unable to decide flower to choose. In the darkness, Garry stood at the very edge of the balcony and unpins his rose from his pocket.

From the shadows, he throws.

In a field of red flowers, she spots the blue rose and jolts in disbelief.

_Know the weight of your own life. When the rose ?, so too shall you ?_

_Blue petals scattered. _

_They meet for the first time. _

_A kind face, a gentle smile, warm hands. _

Teary eyed, Ib gently lifted the ten petal rose and adjusted it onto the top of her ear. She gives another low bow and accepts the official large bouquet of roses before she leaves. Instead of staying back to listen to the rest of the concert, or for the after-party, she makes her way straight home.

A lemon sweet. A lighter. A blue rose; She was sure she was just a heartbeat away from solving the mystery. All she needed now was a face. Ib wandered into bed and laid down, staring at the canopy, reliving the hidden scenes.

She wonders who could have thrown the rose.

xIxBx

_**COMING SOON:**_

'_He's intoxicated.'_

_She jumped at the warm breath spreading across her cheeks, their heat mingling together in the intimate space. Feeling his face come closer, she froze. Slowly and sloppily, a poorly aimed kiss for her cheek landed on her small nose. His soft, dark hair tickled her face a little. His lips brushed down and came to rest on her neck. She jolted at the strange sensation across her skin. _

_In the dark, where she couldn't see his expression, he gave the soft skin a tiny lick. She pushed him away and ran, heart beating like a drum. Her face was as bright as the roses in her hair. _

_**xTxBxCx**_

AN: Thoughts? Any critiques are more than welcomed and shall be taken into consideration. If there are any grammatical mistakes, spelling errors or inconsistencies in story please let me know C: Thank you for reading and take care!


	6. Chapter 5: Night

Disclaimer: I do not own Ib or any of the elements in the game. They belong to their respective owner, Kouri. I am merely using them for my own creative amusement.

AN: D: SO. MANY. PEOPLE. Well, to some the number isn't very high but OMG thank you all so much for the reviews, favourites and follows ;-; It means so... much... Thank you *heart* ;-; Here we go, happy reading this monster chapter! :3

Note: This chapter has been revised from the original. New scenes + New character comes in! Enjoy.

Song recommendation: *Chopin - Nocturne No.2 in E-flat Major, Opus 9 **Beethoven – Piano Sonata No. 8 in C Minor, Op. 13 – "Pathetique" – 2. Adagio Cantabile *** Beethoven – Piano Sonata No. 31 in A-flat Major, Op.110 Movt 1. (Beethoven played by Daniel Barenboim)

**Chapter 5:**

**Japan, 2003**

_-11 years after the gallery-_

Garry sat on the barstool of the makeshift bar, slumped in his seat and took his eighth shot.

He really didn't want to be here.

"Hey buddy, take it easy." He waved the concerned bartender off, head dunking every few seconds and slowly got up, trying to balance in the spinning room. He wobbled slightly, but after years of building his stamina, the man could hold his liquor quite well. Taking care not to bump into any random stranger, his _date_, or worse, Marilyn, he made his way out of the grand ballroom.

After a few confusing minutes of stumbling around the accessible halls, stairs and doors of the large house, Garry found himself breathing in the cool fresh air of the estate's famous gardens. As the moon was too clouded that night to guide him, he simply sat on the first solid object he could find. Judging from the sound of trickling water, it was probably the edge of the fountain.

'Dad liked fountains, at least, when I was little.'

The darkness enveloping him gave Garry a sense of calm and privacy. It was almost pitch-black. He ran a hand through his dark hair and asked himself how he was dragged to this event in the first place. He looked down and saw bright little spots shifting and glimmering at him. Garry grimaced and splashed it away. He was disgruntled to see them again in a few seconds and without thinking scooped it instead, wetting his face with the chilly water. It sobered him slightly.

Great, now he was shivering cold. Placing his hands inside of his jacket to warm them, he remembered the little treasure waiting for him in a hidden pocket. Feeling grumpy, cold and miserable, he gave in to temptation. He shakily slid out the lone cigarette and fumbled for the lighter, hands freezing from the cold.

xIxBx

Ib slowly disappeared from the crowd, making her stealthy exit almost completely unknown to the guests in the estate's grand ballroom. It wasn't entirely her charity event, so the full responsibilities of hostess didn't exactly fall onto her shoulders. People still spotted her too easily though and her resemblance to her mother didn't help matters either.

Despite being a professional pianist for about five years now, she was still very uncomfortable being crowded by a large number of people at once. It always unnerved her and so she generally stayed away from these types of situations, unless propriety dictated otherwise... or Ellis.

Such as now.

To her, the atmosphere was suffocating, people constantly asking for her or trying to get her autograph or trying to make a move on her. She just disliked it. She was just only putting in this much effort for her parent's sake. The charity event was organised and hosted by her parents, as suggested by Ellis, to give Ib a break from the spotlight and still raise funds for the Childrens' Organisations. Ib didn't read through the guest list prepared by her parents and Ayden, but she spotted a few familiar faces and their ever present notepad and cameras.

Ib's pace quickened and she frowned at the thought of the gossip mill in her house, but it couldn't be helped. She lightly fingered the design of the locket around her neck and briefly pondered if _he_ knew about her too. She reached the end of the corridor and found the side entrance to the gardens.

'Ah. Finally.'

Her hand gently grazed the knob before a deep voice rang out.

"Going somewhere?"

Her hand stilled on the doorknob. She stiffly looked back and grimaced at the man who found her, the one who's been nothing but a huge pain and a huge help over the years. She nodded at him, steeling herself for the inevitable lecture.

"I need some fresh air." She replied tersely. Ib didn't realise he would be here too, he rarely came for these social functions.

"Mmhm... and the large balcony _in_ the ballroom isn't good enough for you?" His condescending tone irritated her, it always had. She replied with a blank face and opened the door. Ellis gave a smug grin before turning on his heel and unexpectedly strolled off. "Don't be gone too long, dearest. You may catch a cold in that pretty dress."

She blinked at his curt response. He was a man of strict rules, proper schedules and non-stop work. He was the person who saw an opportunity for her everywhere she goes and with that, he dominated her work life. He was the slave driver who made her work almost eleven months a year when she was younger, forcing her to perform, ensuring her success in the European and Asian worlds. He had never given exceptions for her before, and he had never complimented her looks, being seven years her senior. Ellis would never call her "dearest" either. Something was definitely off tonight.

Ib shook her head; she would observe and analyze this strange development later.

She stepped outside of the house and took a deep breath of fresh air to clear her head. It was so peaceful outside. Entranced by the promise of silence in the gardens, Ib stepped forward and continued until she was almost completely enshrouded by the night.

xIxBx

*Sparks were there, but where was the flame? Muttering to himself, he was so engrossed in his own small problem he didn't hear light rustling of grass or the sharp intake of breath. Knowing the layout very well, she was surprised to see someone already seated at her spot. She gripped her lacy dress tightly at the sides and hesitated, thinking for a moment, suddenly aware of the situation.

Be it her burning curiosity or an unexplainable compulsion, she stayed. She took out her own lighter very gently out of her customised hidden pocket (courtesy of Ayden, despite many objections on her part) and approached him until she was at his side. She had done this for her father a good number of times too. Hers flickered to life easily, dancing merrily in front of him.

"Need help?"

His weary eyes looked at the fancy lighter right in front of him and he leaned forward, lighting the cigarette in his mouth. The first drag made his eyes roll back in pleasure. The small light illuminated a lacy red dress and her voice was soft and feminine.

"Thanks, you're very kind."

The woman flicked her lighter off and gracefully sat beside him, enjoying black coolness. The gardens were known as her domain to everyone in the household and Ayden, and she doubted guests would venture into the darkness alone. His voice was slurred slightly and she realised he may be drunk and stumbled here by accident. 'Everyone says beware of strangers, but that's how friends are made anyways.'

"Right you are, princess." She looked at the direction of his voice and wondered if she had thought aloud. "We're all strangers in this forsaken world until we connect our hearts and souls."

"You're a very poetical drunk," she chuckled. "I've never heard of such a person."

"You underestimate me, fair maiden. What's your name?"

Hesitant to tell him, she paused. The whole reason why she escaped the charity ball in the first place was the suffocating atmosphere in there. Everyone wanted her, left and right. What if this man was the same?

"Eve." She decided. "I'm Eve."

"Gareth, your majesty." She felt a hand knocking against her thigh and she tensed for a second, wondering if all the warnings were true. All fears fled, though, when he found her hand, brought it up to his face and placed a gentle kiss on her knuckles.

"Majesty...?" she smiled, pulling her hand back. "I'm no one special. We may never meet again or we do and simply pass by each other. Why are you so nice to me?"

"I don't know, maybe one day we will. I'll see your face and hear your voice and we'll be proper friends." She didn't miss the wistful tone. "Do you believe in fate?"

She hesitates again. "I don't know. If it exists, it's not very kind to me." She heard a rich, unrestrained laughter coming from him and was undecided about slapping him or laughing along. It sounded like a relief for him for the first time in the night.

"You and me both, princess. I've always wanted to meet this girl again, but no matter how far I go to catch her, she's out of reach. Who knows, maybe I'm unworthy of her."

"A girl? Like your first love?" She tipped her head to the side, strangely curious.

"I wouldn't say first love... that would be very wrong considering our ages when we met. She's just, so incredibly special to me. She's brave, she's kind and she's a very thoughtful girl. One of a kind."

She looks at the stars in the sky. "A friend?"

"Yes, a friend. Haven't you ever looked back and think, what if? What if I got to know this person better, or become friends with another person. You don't know if you'll ever get a chance. If you do, wouldn't you be grateful for it?" His tone made her sad.

"I look back all the time. I don't have a lot of friends."

"That's odd, I can tell you're really sweet and soft-spoken." She blushed at his kind words. "Haven't you ever thought of one person?"

She thought back and remembered an incident when she was still quite small. She had never told anyone else and wondered how this one stranger could coax it out without any effort. Even though they'd only spoken for a while, it felt like they were connected.

"He's... a stranger. An older stranger." She expected laughter again at her statement and was surprised to find her conversation partner silent too. "I remember I was with my father in town, and I became distracted by something at a nearby stall and the shops around it. I wandered far away and I ended up in the park. A kind boy helped me back and I never forgot him."

"I... this story...It's familiar."

"I never even found out his name."

Something in his chest tightened and his intoxicated mind slowed down even more, unable to figure out why he was feeling this way. He felt the woman's head drop onto his shoulder and he awkwardly patted her hair, amazed by its softness. Her shampoo fragrance was making him dizzy too.

"Sometimes..." he sniffed, "We meet people who we were never supposed to meet."

"What if they were? Despite the impossible odds, they did it, and they share amazing things with each other."

"Yeah, what if." A thick silence started to gather.

"Gareth, why are you here? Why aren't you enjoying the party?"

He didn't want the light-hearted conversation about friends and destiny to spiral down to the fact it was the anniversary of his father's death. He didn't want to share with her the guilt of leaving his mother to cry herself to sleep earlier in the afternoon. He didn't want the stranger to think he was a cold, heartless person who left arguments and words unsaid even after death. He liked her and he wanted her to like him too.

"I have a weird, overly attached date prowling around and I don't want to see her."

"Why'd you take her out here then?" He could hear the amusement in her voice.

"Long story short, my older friend arranged this blind date. I was forced to agree because of an old favour I promised her. Moral crisis and all that. Why are you here?"

"I'm not too good with crowds."

"You and me both, princess. You and me both."

His clearer speech was rapidly deteriorating and he's started slurring again. The man knew how to handle his alcohol, but in the end, he was losing the fight. Ib got off the stranger's shoulder and inspected the dark shadow beside her, tracing her pocket. The waning moonlight wasn't much help. Tall, much older, and much bigger. She slipped her lighter out again. She flicked it on and was surprised to see black hair covering the entire left side of his face. Pouting slightly, she moved slightly forward, brushing against him, before he moved like lightning.

Slapping the lighter out of her hand, the flame went out and the garden was once again filled with darkness. The lighter lay undisturbed on the grass.

"Why...?"

"I know I look like shit right now, it's not the best first impression I wanted to make."

She shifted away slightly, feeling uncomfortable for her silly actions. All she saw was messy black hair, a straight nose and a strong jaw. She wanted to see more. Both persons quickly relaxing though, the enveloping silence became more serene, instead of tense. The man slid towards her and Ib braced herself to push a falling drunk man off. He didn't. One hand on both sides of her hips, he leaned in.

"You're verrrrry pwetty though."

She jumped at the warm breath spreading across her cheeks, their heat mingling together in the intimate space. Feeling his face come closer, she froze. Slowly and sloppily, a poorly aimed kiss for her cheek landed on her small nose. His soft, dark hair tickled her face a little. His lips brushed across and down and came to rest on her neck. She jolted at the strange sensation across her skin.

"W-What are you...?!"

He stroked her upper arm reassuringly. She still couldn't move. He nuzzled and her face became intensely hot. What was he... what was she... what? Her muddled mind didn't understand what was happening and command of her voice left her, leaving behind sharp gasps and soft whines.

"You smell like roses."

In the dark, where she couldn't see his expression, he gave the soft skin a tiny lick.

"Soft as roses too."

She pushed him then, onto the grass and ran, heart beating like a drum. Her face was as bright as the roses in her hair. For a twenty year old girl who still hasn't gotten her first kiss, it was completely... startling.

Back at the fountain, blurry eyed, heart and head pounding, he gives a resigned sigh and wobbled up, breathing deeply. He started off as a philosopher and now he probably looked like a charming rapist. He never got to see her face properly but she looked familiar, like a faraway dream. The story was... familiar too. He kicked the stone fountain, grinding his teeth in anger.

"What the hell... is wrong with me...?" Always too late, always too slow. Garry wobbled back to the charity ball and looked for his drive home.

xIxBx

Ayden pinched Ib on her arm as she walked by and lifted up one cheek to her as a reminder.

She could practically hear the reprimanding tone in her mind, "Smile you stupid girl!"

Ellis, who was leading Ayden by the waist, glanced at Ib. She didn't understand, nor did she like the noticeably knowing glint in his eye. He led the younger woman into a waltz, surprisingly graceful for such a rigid person. Ayden smirked coyly at him and slid closer. They seemed comfortable, animatedly talking. Ib rubbed her sore arm, not surprised at _this_ development. The old Ayden was still there, buried under a thick layer of harsh words and sarcasm.

As much as she admired him and thanked him as her private secretary and business manager, she couldn't understand and connect with Ellis out of a professional level. Ib hated that smirk he always sported when he was right, or that twinkle in his eyes when he knew something she didn't. He may be handsome, sure, but Ellis never _smiled _warmly like-

She took another sip of the bubbly drink, discouraging the thought to continue.

She felt a tap on her shoulder, turned and gave the guest a small smile before conversing. The older woman nearly swooned at the innocent, pure expression on her face. Despite being gone for only half an hour, a lot of people missed her and more noticed than she cared to think.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw two lovers fighting. They walked out of the ballroom and Ib put her champagne flute on a passing tray, excusing herself and going after them. Something seemed very wrong. She wasn't an intrusive person by nature, but she didn't want anything violent to happen to either of them. Their argument looked to be the edge of the precipice.

Ib realised they were headed to the entrance and she stepped outside quickly, using one of the many side doors. Hidden by the unlit pagoda, she had a perfect view of them coming out from the main doors. She didn't want to intervene or be seen unless absolutely necessary. She nearly screamed when the man grabbed the woman and slammed her against the brick wall. She was about to step out and tell him off when the woman moaned, low and deep. Ib stepped back, wide eyed.

"Oh Garry... whatever are you up to?"

"It's...," he exhaled harshly, "It's _fucking_ **Gareth**!"

Ib reeled back in shock.

He snarled at the woman, trembling in rage before stepping back, clutching his hair, hiding his face. He walked backwards until he reached the other wall and slumped down. She could see he was at his limit of self-control.

"Garry, what's wrong?"

Another man and woman came out, red faced and confused. The man looked similar to the woman arguing with Gareth and the woman with blonde hair touched his shoulder.

"I'm sorry Kina. I'm really, really sorry about all of this. Marilyn, just take me home, please."

The woman in the short, fuchsia dress, his _overly attached date,_ walked towards him slowly and sat next to him, hugging him. She stroked his black hair fondly and pulled him up before cuddling him properly, spinning them slowly in a faux dance. Despite the recent fight, she seems unafraid. He seemed to have no energy to resist her. Ib watched the shadows dance on his face until they completely left.

**She had never seen a more beautiful man.

Curly black hair covered his entire left eye, leaving his chocolate brown right eye unhindered. A long straight nose, plump lips and a strong jaw. He was tall, lean and feminine. The tuxedo gave him a masculinity he carried off ironically well, despite his naturally androgynous face.

She knew this man.

"I'll drive him home. He's in no condition to take the bus or drive back."

The suggestion came from the woman named Marilyn. The man who appeared to be her date nodded and grabbed the woman in fuchsia by her arm, in a very typically sibling style. The blonde woman slipped his arm over her shoulders and supported him as he threatened to fall. They looked comfortable with each other. He looked so sad though... and he kept looking back at the grand house.

She realised it now, the man by the fountain, the little girl he talked about, the way he was so reassuring and familiar.

A tear fell, and another.

She realised her lost chance. Even with him being so close to her right now, she wouldn't, she couldn't take the first step. Neither of them was in the right state of mind. She heart and physical body battled for dominance, making her swing back and forth, watching him disappear from her life once more.

Ib leaned on the wooden post and rubbed her face, unaware of the light make-up she was smearing. Her nose started getting warmer and she couldn't contain the odd dripping from her eyes either.

_Meeting for the first time_

_Making him push the statues for her_

_Him smiling at her when he showed the milk puzzle_

_Him teaching her new words, reading aloud painting titles _

_Reuniting with him, giving him that hug after they met again_

_Everything_

Running away from the scene, her heart beats faster as she remembers him; she remembers everything about him and everything about their time together. Two years of forgetting everything, including him, made her rack with guilt. Her sobs continuously got louder and she slid down onto her knees, leaning against a doorframe, unable to support herself anymore. Feeling hands pulling her arms away from her face, she sees Ayden staring at her expressionlessly.

"You're ruining your makeup."

She cries even harder as the older woman put an arm around her, not saying a word. Ib couldn't find the strength to pull away or stop, so she continued.

"What do you think the guests will say if they saw you like this? It was your turn to perform. Thank goodness I made the Classical Quintet play first hmm?"

_Once you go in, there's no going back_

_All you time here will be lost_

_Will you still jump in?_

"I'm sorry."

"Ugh, you look really ugly right now, and you made my shoulder all wet. Thank goodness I'm wearing a strapless number, huh?"

"I'm sorry."

"Stop apologising."

"I'm sorry"

"What are you, nine?"

Ib winced at the number, now understanding that her heart never truly grew up after all of these years, always fixated on her past memories. Ib looked guiltily away before apologising once again.

"You're an idiot. C'mon, let's fix you up. I'm not going to waste twenty minutes here arguing with you and ruin all my efforts.

She followed behind Ayden timidly, away from the doors, heart-broken and ears ringing from all of Garry's words, past and present.

"_...I've always wanted to meet this girl again, but no matter how far I go to catch her, she's out of reach."_

"_Say Ib, have you heard of macaroons?"_

"_I don't know, maybe one day I will meet you again..."_

"_... So uh, if we get out of here, could we go there together? ...No wait, we WILL be going there! And we will get out! I promise!"_

"_... I'll see your face and hear your voice and we'll be proper friends..." _

"_Ah, I still haven't asked your name. How foolish of me! Well, I'm Garry. And you are? Ib... Ib, you say. It's dangerous for a child to be all on their own... So I shall stick with you! Let's go Ib."_

"_...Do you believe in fate?"_

"I do now."

"Did you say something?"

Ib shook her head and bit her lip. Ayden sighed in disgust and started fixing her appearance with the full length mirror in the guest room she dominated as her own.

"What a cry baby."

"_You're verrrrry pwetty though."_

"_C'mon, be cheery! It's a disservice to your cute face to do anything else!"_

She stared back at her depressed reflection and tried to lift the corners of her mouth. Ayden raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow at the effort and patted Ib on the head, unaware of the effect it had. Ib's eyes started to water again and Ayden growled.

"What the hell is wrong with you? Did you rendezvous with a boy and got rejected or something?" It was nowhere close to the truth, yet she supposed it felt almost the same way.

"I don't know."

"Then stop crying for no reason, you're giving me a lot of trouble."

"I'm sorry." The young woman's face was so miserable Ayden had a change of heart, just once.

"You're so troublesome, honestly. It's fine."

Ib fingered her sweet locket and looked at Ayden's blank face.

"Let's go."

They both said nothing until they reached the ballroom once more.

xIxBx

It's been a week now.

Garry rubbed his face and watched the strange girl play with the daisy, plucking off the petals one by one. He was the one who asked for this meeting, so why was he so nervous? He didn't hate alcohol. He hated the effect it had on him and he hated himself for doing such horrible things to strangers and dates alike. He didn't even have a chance to apologise to the lovely girl in the gardens.

He took a deep breath and walked towards Kina.

"He loves me," pluck, "He loves me not," pluck, "He loves me," pluck, "He loves me not." She was down to her last petal and she gave an excited shout to the sea in front of her railings. "He loves me, he loves, loves, loves me!"

"Hey Kina."

She spun around and the bright smile he received made him feel so guilty about the night once more. He felt undeserving of such adoration. "Hey Gareth!" She stole a hug before he could notice and he reluctantly hugged back, thinking it was the least he could do for pushing her away so harshly. The loud chattering coming from the nearby cafes slowly turned into a hum in the background.

"Kina, listen, I wanted to apologise for the date. I was so horrible to you in the end and I'm really sorry if I hurt you."

"Aww Garry, it's okay."

She gave him that smile again. He wondered how he could break such a fragile girl in her early twenties, so full of hope and love. He was far too jaded for her, keeping on to crushed dreams. He pushed her away very gently from his personal space and inadvertently brushed against her coarse black hair.

"No, it's not. I am so sorry for handling you the way I did. You're a nice person for putting up with me." She beamed at the compliment. "But, it's not that I don't like you, it's just that..."

"I'm not your type?"

Her amber eyes widened and the wind rustled half of her hair onto her porcelain face. The skin was so fair he could see faint outline of blood vessels. Her sensitivity to the cold gave her skin an almost blue tinge. When Garry first saw her, he thought she looked like a beautiful China doll. He was so afraid of shattering her into a million pieces if he made the wrong move.

"No, no... You're really pretty. I just don't want to date anyone right now. I'd be more than happy to be friends though?" His heart almost stopped, not realising what a potentially lethal move it was to the girl. She froze. He panicked.

'Brilliant move, friend zoning her.'

She smiled even brighter than before, if that was possible. "Yeah, sure! I'd love that too."

'... Wow. Brilliant move, Garry!' He returned the smile, suddenly relieved of the tension in his bones.

"Really? You're not mad?" She shook her head and gave a small smile, staring at the intricate pattern of her boot laces. She seemed awfully modest all of a sudden now.

"I've always wanted to be your friend, no matter what the consequences, ever since Marilyn told me about you. Even if you wanted to leave me behind, or kick me aside, or rip my stomach open, I'll always love-"

He stepped back, recognising the words, an image of a little doll filling his mind.

"W-Wait. WHAT?!"

Her amber eyes widened and froze. She giggled and gave him a demented lopsided smile. She sauntered forward and thrust a hand into the little handbag he hadn't notice earlier. "Oopsies!"

She smashed his face with a paintball. Her fist connected with his temple and the impact knocked the back of his head on to the safety railing. He crashed onto the concrete pavement, sprawled in an awkward position and head pounding from both injuries. He saw her run, practically flying away and people surging forward.

Pain.

So much pain.

Struggling to keep his eyes open, all he could hear were alarmed shouting and saw a flurry of movement. Red dripped in his vision and he closed his eyes.

xIxBx

"All this humidity is going to make my hair frizz."

"Maybe."

Ayden glared at the lady with her umbrella, the number of bags under her arm significantly less than under hers. The "therapeutic" shopping session went downhill when it started raining and Ayden's mood began turning foul.

"At least you're talking again. You scared the living daylights out of your parents when all you did was cry and mope and stay silent for a whole three weeks after the charity ball. You have no idea how terrifying your parents are when they're interrogating me, asking me what's wrong. How the hell should I know? You barely tell me anything these days, just creepily watching me."

"Do you like children?"

The complete turn in conversation left Ayden clueless until she spotted the baby clothes shop Ib was staring at. She huffed impatiently, ready to drag the silly nutcase if she wanted to go inside. She should talk to her, being her... friend... and all.

"Babies this, children that. What's wrong with you? You're hardly motherly, being so childish."

"Maybe that's why I'm good with them." Ib retorted and started walking again. Ayden's eyebrow ticked, annoyed at the fact she didn't wait for her to catch up at all, stopping or starting off wherever she liked to.

"Ib, don't you have any ambitions at all? I mean, you may be an accomplished pianist and all, but... shouldn't you always aim higher?" She ponders for a moment. Her ever unchanging expressions always disturbed Ayden. Ib's face was practically that of a porcelain doll on most days.

***"All I want to do is play the piano, always playing better this time compared to last time. Maybe raise a family one day and live happily ever after." She clicked her tongue and shook her head, the answer so classically similar to the one in mind.

"Boy, you sure are simple minded."

"What's wrong with my dream?" Her genuinely surprised face irritated her.

Ayden scoffed, unable to answer without raising her voice. "You're so childish. You work hard and earn so much from each concert tour with Elise's arrangements. You've got the money to travel or do what you want, yet you just walk around in your big house all day, sticking to three rooms. You're young, pretty, smart and yet... It's such a waste."

"What do you want me to do?"

"I don't know! Anything! Everyone knows you're a better than the average musician, but that's pretty much the only good quality you have! You're so... BLEH! No one has any reason to like you, let alone sponsor you if you somehow lost your fingers."

Ib only looked mildly amused at the expression, a hint of a small smile on her face. A faraway look in her eyes appeared. Her tone was much lighter. "Why are you being so nice to me now? I thought you hated me?"

"I hate you because you're a spineless, childish, miserable coward. All you want in life is to be a baby factory."

"That's mean."

Ayden snapped. She pushed Ib to the hard ground and stood over her, uncaring of the rain, their bags or the puddle she was standing on anymore.

"You're pathetic. Look at you! You want a happily ever after? You do NOT lean back and watch it fly away." She stomped her foot and sent muddy water up both their legs. "You don't mope, you don't cry, you don't WAIT for people to come after you!"

Ib stayed silent on the tar road, shaking from the cold, or perhaps the piercing words. They were relatively alone in the desolate world with only streetlamps for company.

"You may be a soft-spoken, quiet little girl, but you know what? LIFE ISN'T EASY. You go after what you want, woman! You assert yourself, you become aggressive and you TAKE YOUR HAPPILY EVER AFTER!"

Ib stood up, not bothering about her wet clothes now. "Like my dad? Or Ellis?"

Ayden flicked her hair back and stormed off. "That is none of your concern." Ib shook her head at Ayden and thought better of starting a pointless argument over something that was becoming less common over the years. Her flirting nature had shifted and morphed into a more forceful one.

"How do I become more aggressive in what I want when I don't know what I want?"

"We're humans, Ib. We ALWAYS have desires. Quick, what's yours, right now, without thinking?" Ib replied in a quiet voice, afraid of the response.

"I want to be happy." She looked up and saw Ayden staring at the clouds.

"Don't we all? C'mon, the chauffer's waiting for us." Ayden walked off, not bothering to make further conversation and Ib watched silently. She closed her umbrella and allowed herself to get soaked to the bones, enjoying the unexpected cold shower.

Happiness.

She walked back behind Ayden, and thought hard about their conversation. What did she really want? A smiling face instantly popped up and Ib's own warmed up. She just wanted to start everything over again.

xIxBx

He opened his eyes.

He turned his sore neck to his right and saw his former teacher sitting cross-legged, reading a fashion magazine. She noticed him moving and immediately put it down. Feeling the bed slowly bending upwards, Garry realised he was in a hospital. Feeling around his head, the bandages scared him and his breath quickened, making him hyperventilate.

A hand tightly gripped his arm and he saw his mother to his left. She looked tired and sleep deprived. They exchanged small smiles and he tried to recall the last conscious memories he had. He remembers red. The two women leaned over the bed railings and he snaps back to reality. He looked between the two of them and his mother stroked his cheek.

"Do you remember us, Garry?"

"Of course I do, Ma. What are you talking about?"

The two gave relieved sighs and Marilyn went back to her seat, looking at him fondly. "Kina did quite a bit of damage to your head. Some kind folks called the ambulance and it brought you here. I would never have imagined such..." she sighs. "Kina ran far too fast for anyone to catch her though. We've given her description to the police but apparently she's vanished."

"You have unusual taste in women, Garry."

"Not my choice, Ma."

He looked at Marilyn and she flinched, grimacing slightly. Knowing that the old woman was unaware of the situation, she explained. "I set them up together. But honestly, I've known that girl since she was in diapers. Trust me, this is new development."

Sakura gave a hard stare to the woman and looked back at Garry, frowning at the bandages. "The doctors need to check up on you and make sure you're okay. I'm sure it won't be long."

He frowned, displeased at his situation.

"You've been asleep for the past few days now." She gripped his arm again. "Let's call the nurse, first."

Miraculously, Garry suffered only bumps and bruises here and there and a few scratches on his face. No memory loss, no concussion, no shock. The paintball that Kina had smashed on his face contained harmful chemicals that shouldn't have been there, but he had inhaled so little of it that the intended effect was cancelled out by his own body. The doctor still wanted to keep him under surveillance, so he spent that hospital night alone after he told the two ladies to go home.

Exhausted, his mother gave in but Marilyn was a bit more resilient. She had become something similar to a close friend ever since their Ib piano concert and stayed by his side, having tea every once in a while. He enjoyed those meetings because he didn't put much effort into making new friends. After a while, it had become more and more natural.

Garry brushed his soft hair away from the left side of his face and fingered the long, ugly faint scar that still lingered. He smiled as he remembered how he fooled Marilyn with a bit of makeup on that date years ago. Hair slicked back, he needed to hide the scar somehow. A bit of foundation, a bit of powder, voila: beautiful unmarred skin. It took too much work and sneaking about though, so he didn't do it often. That 'knife incident' almost took his left eye too, but thankfully didn't. He hated that day, which started his hospital phobia.

Lifting his right hand, he inspected another scar, a clean cut. What he originally thought was just a flesh wound was deep enough to leave a mark. The memory behind this one was much more painful though: One of the last best moments he would have with Ib and the moment where he was indirectly responsible for destroying a child. Mary may have been a painting, but she was barely older than Ib at the time. Garry couldn't let the guilt go.

Who would've thought of him killing a painting child one day? He covered his left eye once again and turned over to fall into oblivion.

xIxBx

Ib started playing the grand piano in the drawing room instead of the baby grand in her own room, as she had for many years, using the light and fresh air as an excuse for the change. Ayden called bullshit and smirked, understanding the girl's new quirky behaviour. Her parents were just delighted that Ib's spirits were finally lifted again.

She instructed the cook to teach her how to bake macaroons and all the treats that Eve and her loved as children. She read in the gardens, instead of her own bed and helped the gardeners to plant the rose bushes. The mingling with the servants made Ayden sneer, but her parents loved the fact she was building her compassion and her appreciated her effort to break out of her shell.

One day, she bought two rabbits from the pet store. One had a blue ribbon; the other had a yellow ribbon tied around its neck. Ayden and Ib's father, William, watched her play with them from the drawing room window.

"Therapeutic rabbits? Really, sir?"

"I don't mind too much, Ayden. As long as she's happy and safe, I'm alright with it."

It was a gradual process, opening up more. She felt happy. She felt much better than she did all those years ago, reaching out for something that wasn't there, or sorting through most of the most painful memories she had just to see him smile again. She didn't regret it. She didn't hate it anymore. She just wasn't going to let the past affect her future.

For every aspect of her time in the gallery, she composes a piece. The sound was much darker and sinister than her previous lullabies, but it's packed with so much emotion everyone who hears it stops just to listen. She didn't care it was creepy; she didn't mind it was frightening to listen to at night; she played and played her heart out.

"So how many rabbits are there now, one hundred and one?"

Ib stilled her fingers and smiles at the obvious taunt coming from Ayden. "Nah, I'm pretty sure there's at least two hundred." The smirk dropped and Ayden blanched.

"You're disgusting. What's with you and rabbits?"

"I like rabbits; they helped me through tough times."

"Don't they ruin the vegetable patches?" Ib pondered, tapping on her chin. She shook her head, smiling serenely at Ayden. The older woman widened her eyes and stepped back, shocked at the sudden expression. "W-What's with that face?"

"The gardeners manage. Why are you so frightened with my face?"

"Don't pull it out so suddenly!"

She immerses herself with volunteer work too. When she isn't composing, performing or dragged by Elise to another publicity event, she uses her sparse free days to play with the children of orphanages or cancer patients in the children ward in different hospitals. She tries new ones every few months.

Today was a new children hospital that recently opened. The construction had finally finished the magnificent building and the doors of the hospital had opened itself for the children.

The children here were very energetic, despite their conditions. They wore Ib out very easily, each pulling on her sleeve to play with them or sing or play them a song. When nap time arrived, Ib had never been more thankful. She had so much fun, but she was so tired. Thanking the staff for having her, Ib took it as her queue to leave.

When she walked through the door of the playroom though, a little rabbit ornament greeted her. Ib looked left and right to see if anyone was around, but it looked like the rabbit was especially for her. There was a card on top of its back.

_Let's play! Follow the trail!_

The childish scrawl in crayon had Ib's curiosity piqued. She spotted another rabbit at the end of the hall and walked to it, finding the same message written again. She followed the rabbits like she was told to and stopped outside of a door, a bunny on a chair. It was a private room, but the name card was blank, as if unused or someone took it off. Ib was hesitant. The last message was an invitation.

_Come on in!_

She moved the chair, opened the door and froze.

Blue rag dolls lined the shelves. There were tons of sketchbooks and crayons littering the floor and one entire wall was a messily painted rainbow with yellow roses. The bed was a soft yellow cream, while the rest of the room was a light pink. The window was open and the yellow curtains fluttered lightly with the breeze. Walking to the middle of the room, it looked... too familiar.

"_Ib, quick!" She caught the lighter while Garry protected her against the vicious girl. She flicked it on and watched as the tiny flames quickly caught onto the torn, dry painting. It burst into a huge blaze quickly... and so did Mary. Her helpless screams filled her ears and despite all the anger and disappointment she had against the girl, she couldn't just stand and watch. Ib rushed forward and was held back tightly by Garry, his arms encircling her. She turned and looked away, hugging him tightly. "I'm sorry, Mary, I'm so sorry."_

"_NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"_

"No." She felt like vomiting. Ib staggered out of the room and ran all the way to the entrance of the hospital, not looking back even once. Behind the shadows of the corner of the room, a little girl giggles, arms crossed and an amused smile on her face.

"Aw, you didn't even say hi to me again."

xIxBx

_**COMING SOON:**_

"_It's all about balance in this world. Dark and light. Happiness and sadness. Love and hate." She paused. "I suppose if you truly wanted a fulfilling life, you'd make sure to include everything, the good and the bad."_

_He drops his head into his hands and wondered how to pose his question._

"_What about what ifs... or someone very special to you. Do you hold on, do you let go?" The dull ache that always accompanied the thought of her made his chest ache. He looked up into the sad blue eyes of his friend. _

"_I can't help you with that, Gareth. That's something you have to decide on your own." He gave another sigh and looked at the red rose bushes, sick of love. He was just so sick of everything. _

_**xTxBxCx**_

AN: And thus, that was how the Ib OST was created. I'm joking C: Thoughts on this chapter? If there are any grammatical mistakes, spelling errors or inconsistencies in the story please let me know C: Thank you for reading! Take care!


	7. Chapter 6: Storm

Disclaimer: I do not own Ib or any of the elements in the game. They belong to their respective owner, Kouri. I am merely using them for my own creative amusement.

AN: Have I mentioned how fabulous you people are? Thank you for the favourites, reviews and follows C: Have an internet cookie (cookie) and hug (hug) and mid-week post C: I quite liked this chapter when I first wrote it anyway, so there wasn't much to edit, just bits to add on. Hope y'all have a great (rest of your) week! Thanks for stopping by C: Happy reading!

Song recommendations: *Igor Stravinsky - Trois mouvements de Petrouchka Movt. 3: La Semaine Grasse **Zedd – Spectrum (Piano version) [Oh look, something not classical for once! :3] ***Beethoven – Piano Sonata No. 8 in C Minor, Op. 13 – "Pathetique" – 2. Adagio Cantabile

**Chapter 6:**

**Japan, 2003**

_-11 years after the Gallery-_

*The first time Ib saw her, she froze in place as they locked eyes. Only when the little girl smiled heavenly and walk out of the room did Ib remember to breath. Her face haunted her for days.

The second time Ib saw her, she became agitated, not knowing what to say to the child who mirrored her old friend so clearly. From her loneliness to her isolated cheeriness, she was a perfect replica. The child briefly looked up from her sketchbook and made no visible reaction, going back and giving more care and attention to the flower she was drawing.

The third time Ib saw her, she gave a tentative smile and was met with a cold response. For those few weeks, all the little girl did was stared at her. When her back was turned and neck started tingling, Ib knew that the little girl had begun her amusing game of seeing who would break first.

Ib didn't believe in favouritism or seclusion of any child while she was around. She endeavoured to make all of the children happy in the best way she could. Therefore, she always lost. Ib turned in her piano seat to look at the girl for the hundredth time, giving her a genuinely warm smile again, hand beckoning for the girl in the corner of the room to join the other children.

Once again, like every other time, she shook her head.

Hugging her knees to her chest tightly, she made herself comfortable and leaned back. She sat quietly in her own little bubble in the corner and listened. Enthralled by the sound of the piano, she was quite clearly enjoying the music by the dazed little smile on her face.

When Ib finished, it was nap time. As usual, the little girl disappeared.

The next day, Ib came a little earlier than usual. She saw the little girl surrounded by numerous crumpled drawings and crayons. She looked to be concentrating on her latest art work. Slowly, Ib walked to her and sat down close by. "Good-"

"You're not allowed to see it until it's done! Go away!" The little girl quickly covered the drawing with her long green sleeves and glared at Ib, seemingly crossed at her before the older woman barely even said a word.

Surprised by her antics, Ib grinned a little before covering her mouth and stepping back quietly. The little girl with angelic gold hair and blue eyes scowled even further and resumed her effort. Ib went to play with the other children who came out and left her to her own devices.

The little girl looked up and her expression saddened a little, face dropping at the picture. She placed the crayon down and looked at her masterpiece carefully, scrutinising with great detail. She harrumphed and scrunched it up, starting over once more. She would have nothing less than perfect.

Ib came earlier again the following day and was greeted by a sight of a cherubic face and winning yet shy smile. The little girl was blushing and looking away, holding up a picture of Ib smiling, a red rose in her hair and a yellow one in her hand. The woman in the picture was wearing a red dress and sitting by a piano, similar to her view from her corner in the play area.

Her heart swelled at the sight of the lovely picture, shocked by such affection for her. Ib came closer and bent one knee, making sure to keep eye contact with the little girl. She gave her a bright smile and took the picture from her hand. The nurses walking around gave curious looks to the duo that looked like mother and child, despite the differences in looks.

"It's so beautiful. Is this for me?" She nodded. Encouraged, Ib continued. "What's your name? I'm Ib."

"I'm Mary._" _Ibsmiled gently at her, almost tearing up, glad to have finally overcome this frightening wall.

"It's wonderfully to finally meet you now, Mary. You're very talented"

"Thank you!" The little girl practically sparkled with the way she was praised.

Ever since that day, Ib always came a little earlier for Mary, forging a very strong bond with the little girl. She didn't want to play favourites, but the girl was intensely possessive, refusing to share Ib with other people. She played alone when the other children came out and refused to look at Ib except when she played the piano. Ib thought of the extra time as her only time to bond with Mary, and relented when the child asked her to stay a little longer in her room.

It was the same room she had stumbled upon about two months ago and was startled by. Angelic Mary had the looks, the interests and the passion and energy from the Mary from the demonic art gallery. Even their dispositions were very similar, yet she appeared to have no recollection of such an event. She didn't look at Ib with a crazed look in her eye and seemed to love instead of hate her, as if she hadn't destroyed her all those years ago.

Mary was eager to play, be it with crayons or her strange blue dolls. The little girl had even made a fresh new one for Ib to take home. She had a talent for sewing as well as drawing. Unlike the other children, Ib never saw anyone visiting and she wondered why. Mary was a delight to know, a joy to be around. The other nurses seemed puzzle at her behaviour and Ib noticed how the other children seemed... afraid of Mary.

"Hey," she softly greeted them after leaving Mary in her room. "I'm curious. Why doesn't Mary play with the other children?" The nurses looked nervously at each other, trying to form words to express their sentiments.

"Mary plays _very _rough and it scares the others. We decided it would be best if we didn't encourage her. You see, she has these tantrums if things don't go right. It's not the usual childish ones either. For a sick patient, Mary's very strong. She broke another child's arm once and destroyed a good majority of the toys donated."

Ib's eyes went round at the story she was hearing.

"It's strange though, she's well-behaved with you around, Miss. She's taken a strong liking to you. When you leave, she's grumpy until you come back the next time. She hates the fact you won't be coming regularly soon enough."

She understood the little girl's behaviour a bit better. Possessive and dominating, she was the queen of the playground, the other children her fearful subjects. Even the older ones tended to stay away from her. Ib knew that she had to try get Mary to change if she wanted her to be happier. Mary couldn't always depend on her for entertainment and she wouldn't always have time for her. Knowing from experience the time limit, Ib would be kind and gentle, if no one else would be, to the little girl.

She would be damn sure to make her as happy as possible before her time was up.

"One more question, please? Does anyone from outside the hospital visit Mary?"

"Only you, miss." It was just as she suspected.

"Why?"

The other nurse discreetly pinched the woman she was talking to quite hard when she opened her mouth. The girl grimaced and bit her lip. She looked at Ib, eyes pleading.

"Patient confidentiality, miss. You understand, don't you?"

She gave a resigned sigh and nodded, leaving the nurse's station.

"It's perfectly fine. See you soon."

xIxBx

**Japan, 2004**

_-12 years after the Gallery-_

"If you need anything else, please don't hesitate to call. We're more than happy to help." He led the charmed teenage boy out of the shop and waved him goodbye. He stood still for a moment, finally snapping out of his trance to nod and run off, a hint of a blush colouring his features. Garry flipped the sign on the door and made sure he faced away from the glass door before face-palming, glaring at the amused smile on his mother's cheerful face.

"That was not funny."

"I beg to differ," she chuckled, unable to hold it in, "He has a huge crush on you, it's really cute. Keeps him coming back to spend his money, or breaking things to make you fix them."

"I have enough trouble ignoring the sea of girls, I don't need boys too." He gently took the broom from his mother's strong grip and walked to the backroom, where a small kitchenette resided along with a cupboard, table and chairs. He took off the shop apron in the next room, his workshop, where he usually stayed to craft in his free time or fix a client's broken items. "It's lunch time, Ma. You don't have to do all these things. There's something I want to talk about."

"We can talk after lunch dear."

Sakura took out the food she had packed onto whatever tableware the cupboards offered. The smell of food wafted all the way into Garry's workshop and he drifted out, unable to resist the allure of a meal. Once they were both settled and eating, Garry waited until it was the right time to ask. He struck when Sakura was wiping her lips with a handkerchief.

"Ma, why aren't you painting anymore?" She paused, looking up at him. "You hardly spend any time at home now too, especially when I'm not around. Something to share, Ma?"

"I'm just taking care of you. I'm honestly surprised you haven't gotten asthma from all of this dust. You shouldn't be lazy and do nothing when there are no customers. Pick up a broom and-"

"Mother, stop."

Silence lulled between the two of them.

"We used to get on so well but lately you've been picking on every little thing I do or don't do." He placed his chopsticks down and looked at her flushed face closely. "I'm a full grown adult; I've been an adult since I moved out. I should be taking care of you, not the other way round."

"Garry, I only want what's best for you. I'm much more experienced than you are and you should listen to whatever your mother says."

"Does that also mean allowing your mother to control every single aspect of your life?"

"Garry-"

"Back to my original question, Ma. Why?"

She shifted in her seat before standing up and collecting the dishes. She dumped them in the sink and forcefully squirted the dishwashing liquid to a sponge. "Art blocks. I can't paint anymore. No one wants my paintings, no one appreciates them." She scrubbed down extra hard at the plate in hand. Garry sighed.

"That's not tr-"

"I've cleaned the house and it's sparkling. I've re-organised everything and it's all in order. Alphabetical, according to author, according to year of release; I've done it. There's not a single speck of dust or a single leaf of weed in the garden." She turned the faucet and rinsed, placing them down for drying later. "I miss my only son and I don't see him enough." She turned back towards him, glassy eyed. "Is that so bad?

"I visit you every night, after work."

"I don't see anything wrong with moving back in. The house is too empty as it is."

"I'm thirty years old; I'm supposed to be independent."

"You just don't want to live with me, don't you? Stubborn. Just like your father. You hardly do anything I say, always having your own agen-" Garry slammed the table with both hands and stood, seething.

"Pa. Everything comes down right back to Pa, doesn't it?" he stomped over to the coat rack and grabbed his hooded jacket. "You wanted me to dye my hair black every year during his anniversary? I did. You wanted me to give up my life's dream to entertain an old man's wishes? Sure, why not? Stop wearing heels? Yes. Stop talking femininely to customers? Fine!"

She sighed and crossed her arms, shaking her head. "You should really move on, Garry. Your father-"

"That's rich Ma, unbelievable. I'm not the one who was depressed, who's prone to panic attacks. I don't hurt people when my head is too full of anger to process anything!"

She dropped a glass cup. It smashed on the floor.

Silence echoed through the room.

He looked down. Garry's hands curled into fists, absolutely ashamed of himself. He blinked his eyes, suddenly conscious of his left. He made his tone softer, his voice a bit milder.

"You miss him, so you hang out here to forget, don't you?" She still hadn't moved a muscle. He shifted his eyes away, suddenly angry again. "Look, I'm not a toy. Stay as long as you want, I'm going out."

He stormed out and slammed the door shut, rattling the sign on the door. She leaned against the sink counter. Sakura pressed her palms against her eyes for a few moments and her cool facade dropped to that of a crumbling woman. She breathed deeply and let go of the pressure against her eyelids. Sniffing loudly, she composed herself and straightened her posture. She cleaned up the mess of glass. Looking at the clock, there was still half an hour of lunch break left. Despite the added weight to her fragile old heart, she went to the front and flipped the sign to _Open._ Smiling and nodded to the people idling on the streets, a group of young girls nudged each other and giggled, walking slowly but surely to the shop.

Misery loves company after all.

xIxBx

Garry stalked off, unaware of the direction his feet was taking him. Wandering around town for a few hours, he finally settled down in the park, plonking on the bench nearby. There was a lot more people than usual, considering it was a partially cloudy, yet still beautiful Saturday afternoon. He spotted the annoyingly cheerful birds chirping out a sweet harmony on the top of a nearby fountain and he scowled, reminded of his mistakes at every turn.

"Troubled times, eh Gareth?" A familiar scent of lavender and camomile drifted towards him and he slumped even further, using his foreman to support his head. He gave a short nod at the woman who sat down next to him and opened her book.

He massaged his temples and sighed. "I need a break. I've had it with bossy women and giggling fan-girls and fan-boys. Can't I have some space? Can't I not have nightmares and screw-ups? Can't I just not have any weird, awful romance in my life with meddling, interfering people?" He looked directly at Marilyn with the final statement. She grinned and simply shrugged, trying to look as innocent as possible. She cleared her throat and shut her book. Garry looked at her, curious.

** "It's all about balance in this world, from my experience. Take your break sure, but you have to come back to the chaos sometime. Dark and light. Happiness and sadness. Love and hate." She paused. "I suppose if you truly wanted a fulfilling life, you'd make sure to include everything, the good and the bad. Juggle the emotions, balance your priorities and fly away from earthly pleasures."

He thought about the years spent holding on to a childish hope when the bitter cynic inside knew better. He thought about trying to escape the nightmare by exploring new lands, learning new things and meeting new people. He thought about how he wasn't suited for love, how he was far too distant for someone like Melissa and jaded for someone like Kina. He was completely fine with the solitary, bachelor lifestyle.

"You're a person who's nice to look at, nice to converse with, but doesn't let a lot of people in emotionally, do you?"

"Maybe."

"Balance is everything, Gareth. There's a monster and angel inside each of us. It's all about how we restrained them or set them free. I'm teaching my literature students _The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde_. Very interesting book, have you heard of it?"

"Mm."

He drops his head into his hands and wondered how to pose his question, almost unaware of her continuing chatter about said interesting book.

"What about what ifs... or someone very special to you. Do you hold on, do you let go?" The dull ache that always accompanied the thought of her filled his chest. He looked up into the sad blue eyes of his friend.

"And back to this. You stalk her on _Facebook_?"

He stared at her, confused at the term. "What's a Face... book?"

"Too busy working to be social networking, huh? Try it one day, it'd be pretty useful to make your shop grow too if you want it to expan-"

"-I... don't." The silence hung between them and Marilyn scanned his normally open expressions when he was with her. Today, everything was locked. "God, what is with women avoiding questions today?" he muttered, baffled by the similar behaviour both his mother and Marilyn adopted. Marilyn heard him and patted him playfully on the head, despite the graveness of her tone.

"It depends on situation to situation. I can't help you with that, Gareth. That's something you have to decide on your own." He gave another sigh and looked at the red rose bushes and lovey-dovey couples once more, sick of love. He was just so sick of everything.

"I came to the park to read with the nice weather, but the clouds look a little ominous." She grinned at him. "I'll leave you to your moping, although you never told me about this girl before. It's not Kina is it?"

He stared blankly at her and she laughed, looking much younger than usual. She walked off and waved, jogging away when he waved back. Garry wondered how she looked and acted ten years younger than her actual age. Looking at the skies overhead, he decided it was time to go before he ended up getting caught in the cold rain himself.

xIxBx

She had never been here before, and yet she had never felt more at home. It was beautiful, comforting and inviting. It was an older part of the shopping district and far more secluded than the rest, but it was equally if not more enchanting than the rest. Well lit and warm, as opposed to the dreary weather outside, the cosy little shop offered no reason for a customer to leave.

"Welcome, young lady! Do ask if you need any assistance." Ib greeted the kind old lady sweeping behind the counter with a shy smile and nodded her head quietly. She appreciated the effort to make her as comfortable as possible.

As she browsed through the collections, she couldn't help but think how gorgeous the little crafts are, and how talented the maker was. She picked up a queen from a wooden chess set and marvelled at the miniature people, details on her determined little face cut so clearly. 'I never thought wood could come alive.'

Ayden had told her she had discovered a shop selling all sorts of wonderful wooden crafts that would be great as present to any child. The implied insult was directed at Ib, but she took it as a hint for the children of different hospitals, especially Mary. The little girl still had a many long months before turning ten, but Ib wanted to be prepared, just in case. She never had a lot of friends when she was younger. A good majority of the play dates were for Eve.

Ib smiled at the thought of her little sister getting excited over the rocking horse that she spotted. It would be very typical of the energetic Eve. She discovered another little section which had something that interested her very well, especially in her field. She walked back to the counter.

"Excuse me, do you offer services that cater to customised merchandises?"

"Yes we do, our young woodcarver has quite the talent. Unfortunately, he's currently... unavailable... at the moment. You can give him a call in the next few days if you're still interested. Here's his business card."

"Oh, thank you!"

Ib took the simple, small card and spotted the name _Gareth_. She had walked halfway through one aisle and looked back at the weathered face of the woman staring at the windows. Her eyes were scanning the faces of the crowds, almost as if determined to see a loved one there. She held back her questions and looked towards the toy section.

'There's more than one person named Gareth, Ib. Don't be silly.' Both lost in thought, Ib walked back to the wooden rocking horse and browsed through the other classic toys she played as a child.

Floating from one section to another, she was so immersed in the beauty each craft presented that time slipped without notice. Before long the sky darkened and the wind picked up speed. The old woman watched the young one and smiled bitterly to herself, lightly stroking her old wedding ring, reminded of her first meeting with her love.

She was probably just as young, walking up to this same counter, smiling shyly at the handsome man who had been so helpful to her before. A swap of numbers, a promise to meet again one day, having coffee and croissants together. A romantic walk underneath rows of cherry blossom trees, a proposal, an acceptance. Fifteen years without a child, a blessing, a family, _her_ family.

Sighing wistfully at the window, she wondered how her two men slipped away from her and out of her life so easily.

xIxBx

Garry didn't like how dark the clouds had gotten or how they've gathered together.

'Time to go back. Ma's probably taking care of the shop.' Hating the thought of his mother working so hard for him, when he was the one who stormed out made him incredibly guilty. Garry gathered his jacket tighter around him and walked a little faster, trying to outrun the incoming storm and his hesitation to go back.

A gifted street performer and dozens of pigeons caught his eye. The hesitation had caught up and Garry weakly accepted the temptation, prolonging the inevitable fallout a little longer. A slowly increasing crowd edged nearer and nearer to him until he was pushed to the front, able to see the performance quite well. He smiled at the joy in the older man's eyes as he blew out an impressive phrase on the trumpet.

A single bird flew out of its group and landed on his shoulder.

Garry thought it was a daring and bold move for the bird to land on a human, especially one that was playing a trumpet very passionately and... He paused. He narrowed his eyes at the scene, a bird and a trumpet... The bird turned and looked straight at him, cocking its head to the side as if to mock him.

'Ya piece of-'

For a moment, Garry wondered if he was insane for internally talking to a bird his brain had conjured as a human. He balled his fists and stared back. The performer was enjoying the crowd too much to notice anything odd about Garry.

Trying to be discreet as possible, he stepped forward to place a few bills onto the man's trumpet case. The bird watched his every move, eyes constantly tracing his figure. Garry scrutinised the ever watchful creature, rubbing his sweaty palms together. He felt the weight of the lighter resting in his jean pocket and drew it out, slowly, carefully, not wanting to startle the bird before _his _very own performance. Completely overcome with curiosity, it jumped up once before leaning forward towards him.

One hand holding the lighter, another hovering nearby, he flicked it to life. A fire erupted into his palm and vanished as quickly as it came. With the burst of colours and light, the bird suddenly took off, wings spread wide. The performer threw his trumpet into the air with the finale of the piece and the bird aligned exactly as Garry thought it would. His eyes widened and he took in a deep _breath_.

The performer caught his trumpet and bowed low, enjoying the attention and thunderous applause. Dozens of birds alarmed soared behind him and the unintentionally magnificent scene gave Garry a small window to escape unnoticed. While the others were still dazzled, he quietly withdrew himself from the crowd and quickly slipped away.

A drop of water landed on his shoulder and Garry looked up, disheartened by what he saw. Bringing his hood up, he walked on, a frown twisting his lips and sweat from the humidity covering his brows.

It was going to be a long walk back.

xIxBx

***Ib loved walking in the rain, that wasn't her problem.

She sniffed and rubbed her shoulders, fighting off a chill. Her oversized sweater could only do so much to keep her warm when she on the verge of a cold. She looked at the rain in despair and looked back at her watch. It was almost six o'clock. It would take a while to walk back; she had to head off soon. Ib took out her phone from her small bag and quickly texted her mum, not wanting to upset her unnecessarily.

_Will be home late. Don't worry, just the rain :)_

Flu season was in. At first it was her dad, then the young gardener, then Ayden, then the chauffer. Ib thought she had escaped, but it looked like she didn't. Not wanting to prolong the chauffer's cold, she took it upon herself to walk to town, hoping the beautiful weather at the beginning of the day would stay beautiful. Unfortunately, she stayed too long from one shop to another and was finally stranded in this one. It was a wonderful place to be stranded in, but she felt the urgent need to fulfil her agreed curfew. After all, she didn't go out with an escort today.

The kind old woman was typing in an ancient looking laptop and looked up at Ib's fidgeting figure. She saw her indecision and wondered if she could help.

"I don't mind you staying in here dear, even if we close the shop, but it'd be dark soon enough. Why don't you take that umbrella there? I'll wait out the storm and walk home with my son."

"Oh, thank you, but I can't accept. What if it continued raining until the night? I could always find myself a taxi. Well... if there are any left. I'll be alright, ma'am." Ib didn't really know which she wanted to avoid more, walking home in the dark or a possible fever. However, she absolutely refused to take the umbrella. She could endure the rain but not the thought of this kind woman falling ill. She could just buy another one in a store nearby if she wanted to.

Looking out of the glass door, to her despair, she realised a lot of shops were closing early at the expected shower, even convenience stores. 'Unprofessional...' She sighed and tapped her chin, hesitantly reaching for the door handle. She turned back at the woman and waved goodbye, smiling at her.

"Thank you for the offer earlier and for everything else. I'll be back in a few days."

"Take care dear; it's raining heavily out there." She stared worriedly at the window for a second, "I hope you'll be alright." Ib thought for a moment she was referring to both herself and someone else. Ib turned on her heel and stepped out.

Closing the door and hugging her small black bag to her chest, she took a deep breath and set off. Walking gingerly to avoid slipping on the wet pavement, yet as quickly as possible, Ib kept her head down to avoid the rain on her face.

xIxBx

Garry kicked the stone away from the narrow pavement into the bushes nearby. The downpour hit harder and much sooner than he expected and was soaking wet. His hood was up but it only offered minimal protection.

The cold was soothing though, clearing his head bit by bit. His earlier grim face melted into a calm masked, neutral in all respect. Inside, the turbulence that had grown earlier was stripped away into a smouldering, slow heat of shame of his earlier actions towards his mother. Instead of escaping the rain, he took it in stride as his cold, hard punishment, walking at a leisurely, almost crawling pace.

Karma knew very well how to deal with him. Garry walked the streets alone, only fleetingly bumping into a few others with briefcases or bags over their heads. None had the intention of stopping to chat. He kept his head down, hands stuffed in pockets and his hood up. He carried on moving.

The warm, dim light of the automatic streetlamps guided him home and from his location estimated the shop would be about ten minutes away. The apologetic phrases in mind kept whirling about and he still didn't know what exactly to say when he sees his mother.

After all, he had stepped on a landmine.

Garry looked up and breathed in the fresh, damp air. He closed his eyes and the distorted colours behind the darkness gave him a short reprieve, pictures impossible to comprehend teasing him. He smiled at his own childish behaviour and odd humour. He used to play the same game with Ma years ago.

A sudden impact against his chest snapped his eyes opened and he stepped back to avoid falling, the force strong enough to knock him back. Something thudded below. A soft squeak came from the ground next to him and Garry looked down at the object of collision. His eyes widened as he realised what had happened.

"I'm so sorry! Are you alright?"

Her right arm and hip appeared to have cushioned her weight from her fall and her loose long brown hair covered her face. The woman ducked down even further, obscuring her face completely except for her eyes scrunched shut. She said nothing, shaking her head.

He bent down and flipped his hood back, hands hovering about, ready to assist with anything she needed. Garry noted her trembling frame. From what he could make out from the dim lights nearby, long brown tresses were partially held back by braids and a red rose pin. She wore a knee length red pleated skirt that had been hiked up in her fall to past mid-thigh. He blushed. What he thought looked to be white shirt from the collar was obscured by a dark blue sweater. Her red, slightly heeled Mary Jane's and knee-length thin black socks were wet from the rain and puddles on the pavements. One black knee looked to be ripped and the skin scratched from the rough force of the concrete.

He worried his lip, imagining at lighting pace the different scenarios of how this meeting would play out. He laid one hand on her upper arm hesitantly before she jerked it away. She slowly sat up, facing away from him, groaning in pain. She sneezed. He looked blankly at the back of her head before fetching something from his jean pocket. He silently offered the plain white handkerchief and she gently accepted the soft fabric, much less afraid of the unwanted contact.

"Are you alright, Miss? I wasn't watching where I was going at all. I thought there wasn't anybody else walking around so I didn't really-"

"-It's perfectly fine, I was walking a bit too quickly too. The pavement was slippery and I tripped on my heels. I apologise for bumping into-"

"Oh it's fine. I'm more worried about you right now."

The fine-quality materials of her clothes and her formal, polite way of speaking made Garry judge that he tripped or bumped into quite a wealthy person, or at least a person with that kind of background. Oddly enough, he felt that her voice was familiar.

"I'll be fine."

"Let me help you up," he offered a hand to her shoulder and she looked back cautiously, head down and face still hidden by the dishevelled hair and long fringe. "It's the least I can do for you, bumping into you too."

He noticed her small black bag lying close to the bushes and took one of the thin straps, swinging it over his other shoulder. She placed her oddly large right hand into his even larger left one and he noticed her long, slim fingers, partially covered by the long sleeves of the oversized sweater. She wobbled slightly getting up and he supported her left elbow too, not wanting her to fall. She gave a small whine of pain and looked down at her right foot. She tested the appendage, winced and gasped when she swung it a little too far to the right or left. His arms steadied her and he made his mind.

"I've got a first aid kit at my shop about ten minutes away. I'll help you out with your ankle, and then I'll drive you home. Is that alright?"

"I... I really don't want to trouble you." He raised an eyebrow, not buying her tough girl act of wanting to stay strong through everything. He almost missed her tiny nod at the end. "But o-okay."

"Okay. We would get there faster if you were on my back, is that alright?" He smiled gently at her, even though she probably won't see it.

"It's fine. Thank you, for everything." The young woman looked up and graced him the sight of her face for the first time that evening, smiling softly at him.

His heart almost stopped.

Her eyes widened.

Whilst the clouds continued to cry out of sadness or happiness, no one would know, the two people stood on the street pavement, transfixed to the other's gaze, unable to move. The heavy shower relented and slowed to a drizzle before the heavens finally parted, evening sunlight softly grazing the spellbound strangers.

xIxBx

_**COMING SOON:**_

"_It's wonderful meeting an old friend, Mary. Although, I suppose if you haven't seen each other in years, they would count as a new friend too."_

"_What's she like, Ib?"_

"_It's a man, Mary." Ib absentmindedly drew a red poppy in a green field and added a sun too. "I'm sure you'd like him though. He's kind, he's gentle and he helped me a lot."_

"_Just like old times," Mary muttered to herself. Ib looked up._

"_I'm sorry, were you saying something?"_

"_It's nothing, Ib. Let's go play with the dolls, I'm tired of drawing!" The cherubic little girl took the older woman by her hand and dragged her away. She couldn't stand the sight of anymore flowers. She wouldn't let anyone take her Ib away ever again. _

**xTxBxCx**

AN: Finally, huh? ;) And so, with the conclusion of this chapter, we are almost halfway through The Music Box... and there has not been a single music box mentioned. Aren't I funny? If there are any grammatical mistakes, spelling errors or inconsistencies in the story, please let me know and I shall correct it C: Thank you for reading! Take care!


	8. Chapter 7: Smile

Disclaimer: I do not own Ib or any of the elements in the game. They belong to their respective owner, Kouri. I am merely using them for my own creative amusement.

AN: I... Writing non-mushy-romantic-but-sweet-but-sorta-kinda-like- friendship-and-realistic-like scenes are ... difficult *_* Maybe it's because I'm a natural hopeless romantic *facepalm* I have decided to put phone call conversations _"[like this]" _so please don't be alarmed :3 Longest chapter so far, be happy. Forward we go! C: Happy reading!

Song recommendation: *Schubert – Ave Maria Op.52 No. 6 (Played by Maxim Vengerov) **Chopin – Nocturnes, Op. 27: No. 2 in D-Flat Major: Lento sostenuto (Played by Vitali Margulis) ***Mozart – Sonata No. 18 in D Major for piano, KV. 576: I. Allegro (Played by Glenn Gould)

**Chapter 7:**

**Japan, 2004**

_-12 years after the Gallery-_

*"Apples?"

"Yes, please."

Setting the tray of sliced apples and hot tea on the coffee table, Garry sat down on the ottoman to have a closer look at her knee. Nursing a cup, Ib started taking small sips to distract herself and tried to focused her eyes mostly on the fraying seam of his sweater. Her gaze still insisted on straying back to the handsome man tending to her.

"_H-Hey." His hands were warm, strong yet gentle. The trembling in hers slowed to a peaceful stop. Her voice was stuck in her throat, she couldn't think of a single coherent sentence._

"_H...Hi."_

"The scratches aren't too bad, and you washed away the dirt in the shower right?" With the confirmed nod, he continued, "Your knee should heal in a few days, although the scabs will stick around for a while."

"That's fine. Thank you."

"It's no problem." He started working swiftly, quietly, before trying to ease the awkward silence with conversation. "Are the clothes alright? Are they comfortable?"

"I like them."

_Instead of heading towards his shop, he carried her to his apartment. She would be more comfortable after a shower, some clean clothes and maybe some food. The girl looked far too pale for his liking. The first-aid kit was more fully stocked in his home, and he could dry her clothes while working on her knee too. Garry glanced at the girl and swiftly looked back. She was gazing into the distance. For now, she couldn't even look him in the eyes. _

"Oh? They're a little too big, especially the sweater."

"No, it's fine. It's like one of my summer dresses, but warmer and thicker."

Garry smiled at her, raising an eyebrow, and finished his work on her knee, making sure the butterfly stitches were neatly and securely in place. "I'm not sure what to think of when you just compared my sweater to a dress."

Ib took another sip of the jasmine tea and tilted her head at him, an amused grin sitting daintily on her face. She started nibbling on an apple slice. "I can't thank you enough for this."

Nodding, he started wrapping elastic bandages around her right foot tightly and only stopped briefly to check whether or not they were too restrictive. Garry seemed completely absorbed in his task, working neatly and efficiently. Finally after a few minutes, he stood, wobbling a little from his prolonged awkward position of hunching over her knee.

Garry packed and stored the first aid kit away, then checked on Ib's clothes in the dryer. "Your clothes will be done in less than ten minutes, so you can relax if you like. I'm sorry I couldn't give you any proper clothes though."

"It's really fine. Your sweater and shorts are really comfortable, I don't mind."

'It's... still weird.' he thought gloomily. Her long, thick hair was braided and placed over her shoulders, partially hidden by the white fluffy towel on top of her head and exposed the back of her slender neck quite clearly. The jumper he had given was definitely too big, barely hanging on to her smaller frame, reaching about mid-thigh when she stood. The towel hid her collar bones in front, but the top of her shoulder blades could clearly be seen. It was ridiculous how hard he was fighting the threatening blush. He was a grown man for goodness sake.

She daintily sipped on her tea, perfect posture, ankles crossed and eyes closed, savouring the warmth for the briefest moments. Sitting down in the armchair adjacent to her, he stretched his arms and leaned forward to drink his own cup. "Your sprain doesn't look too bad; it should heal nicely with time. Just don't put a lot of weight into that foot for the time being."

Setting the teacup down, she looked up at him shyly and fiddled with her long sleeves, "You're really kind, thank you so much for all of this."

"You've thanked me several times. It's not a problem, really; after all, I took care of you before, didn't I?" Garry flashed a smile at her before he realised his mistake. Ib became very still, staring at him, her entire expression surprised. His lips set into a straight line and he rubbed the back of his neck, wondering why he had the audacity to even assume she would remember. "I mean, that is... well..."

"Yeah, you did."

That one sentence stopped his train of thought and he placed his cup down, grabbing another slice of apple to postpone his response. She reached for her own, but there was none left. He noticed immediately, "Oh, I'm sorry, do you want more? Biscuits, maybe? I'm sorry; I haven't re-stocked my fridge in a while."

"No, thank you. It's alright" She looks at him and though her face blank and tired, her garnet eyes held a thousand emotions. She looked right into his eyes, watching him. "How are you?"

"I'm... great." Leaning back, he sipped on his tea before continuing, "It's not every day that you meet an old friend... and one of Japan's greatest pianists. You're doing pretty well. How are you?"

"I'm... content. A hot bath and a cup of tea after a rainy evening is always lovely."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"That's lovely. You... um." He was at a loss for words. What do you say to a girl you haven't seen in a little over twelve years? "You smile more now. You look nice."

"Oh. I see."

The silence between them stretched until the dryer beeped, signalling the clothes were ready. Having long finished their tea, Garry placed everything back onto the tray and brought them back to the kitchen. "You can change in the bathroom while I look for my keys. Then, I'll drive you home."

Gathering her warm, dry clothes, she nodded and headed off. Garry sighed and walked into his small bedroom, preparing for the inevitable long search. The desk held no clue for him, only a temptation in the form of his silver lighter. He huffed and chucked a few sheets of paper atop of it. Likewise, his shelves and bookcases held no keys for him, just lots of fruit flavoured sweets. Although he walked frequently, he did drive out of town from time to time to make sure his car worked properly.

Opening his chest of drawers, he did indeed find the car key inside a little decorative mug. Further in, something shiny caught his eye. Pulling it out from the very back, he came face to face with a long forgotten memento.

_Ib untied the ribbon surrounding her collar, tugged it out, grabbed his hand and softly pressed it onto Garry's wound. The material was silky, wide and long enough to look like a makeshift bandage._

_It was a brilliant shade of red, bright as fresh blood (he suddenly shuddered at the thought) and had a bit of lace at the edges, real lace. Ironically enough, there were darker shades of what he recognized was dried, old blood._

"_Hey Ib, it wouldn't do to return it as it is. I'll have to make it clean and then I'll give it back, okay?"_

"Garry? I'm ready."

"Coming, Ib!" Dropping the clean ribbon back, he snapped the drawer shut and strode out of his room, slightly disorientated. He would think more about it later. Garry looked up to see Ib back to her normal clothes, neatly and conservatively dressed. She looked _adorable_. "You like oversized sweaters, don't you?"

"They're comfortable." She gave him another one of her uncommon, amused smiles and followed him out of the apartment.

xIxBx

It's morning, bright warm sunlight streaking in through the windows.

How long has it been since the last time?

Ib found the kitchen easily enough, along with Guertena's painting room. She stopped short of entering and shook her head in disbelief at the completed works lined up to dry, hesitant to enter. She had always wondered where the other women came from.

Lady in Red was as proud, arrogant, fierce and frighteningly beautiful as before. Her lust and wrath portrayed was overwhelming, drawing Ib in even though she was frightened by the portrait.

Next to her, Lady in Blue almost seemed to be wise, a knowing smile on her lips. She was just as gorgeous, yet definitely had more years on her face than the first Lady did. The maturity Ib could feel resonating off the painting was astounding, almost as if she already knew the woman in the canvas. The ever so slight smirk on her face revealed a darker side, pride, and her eyes held a characteristic greed she had seen too many times.

Third in line, Lady in Green's lips were tightly sealed, a straight grim line in place. Her eyes were narrowed and seemed to show envy at whatever her sights fall upon. Her round cherubic face and larger, more conservative dress portrayed more volume in her figure compared to the other ladies. Her hand on her navel seemed to show hunger, gluttony for more.

Lastly, Lady in Yellow seemed to have the least expression, apathy painting her face instead. Her design was much simpler than her counterparts, less makeup, less jewellery and her hair had no elaborate style. She was plain, a thin dark haired girl with golden eyes and yellow dress. The lack of effort put forth did not hinder her personality, but seemed to amplify it. A girl tainted by sloth, apathetic of the world, of her own appearance.

Ib was awed, wondering how a person can come _alive_ despite being still on canvas.

She didn't even notice the presence that was behind her the past few minutes.

"Do you like them?" Ib gasped and spun around. He wasn't looking at her, eyes fixed upon his creations. "The seven cardinal sins in four different ladies; Terrifying isn't it? Girls sure can be scary."

"You can... see me?" In the past (was it... three?)... dreams she remained almost consistently ghostlike to people in the environment. "How?"

"Is there any reason I shouldn't be able to?" He raised his left eyebrow, his naturally sarcastic face seemingly ridiculing her, "I should be asking you how you're alive in the first place. How exactly did you get here?"

Wide eyed and completely shocked, she couldn't answer him. "Alive? I'm dreaming... aren't I? It's just me, isn't it?" Guertena went back to the kitchen, picking up a tray.

"Is it, now?" he asked cryptically.

She looked away from the familiar blue eyes and whispers a soft, "I don't know."

His face became to be a blank mask and left her standing in the middle of the kitchen, going into the next room. Ib hesitantly followed through the open door and paused.

**Belle stares outside of the window with fluttering curtains, knees drawn close to her body and a content smile on her face, perched on a bed near a window.

She's beautiful again, soft raven waves, bright brown eyes and a gentle smile.

One hand caressing the bump, the other was twirling a yellow rose, occasionally holding it up and nose indulging in the rich fragrance of the flower. Her eyes would close, long black eyelashes kissing her cheeks and her head tipped back, a slow, satisfied smile on her lips. She opens them at the faint sound of footsteps and sits up, eager to meet her husband.

Ib stands in the doorway and watched as Guertena struggled to balance the tray full of mouth watering, delicious breakfast. He places it atop of her now straightened legs and climbs into bed next to her, pulling her close.

"I'm sorry for everything, dear."

"I'm sorry too, ma Cherie."

Guertena kisses the woman on her temple and brings a spoon full of breakfast to her lips, trying to feed her carefully. She accepts his clumsy efforts with a smile and soft kisses, seeming to have forgiven and forgotten the events that had transpired last time.

Ib walked into the room, waiting for another reaction. They seemed completely oblivious to her. Looking at her hands, she seemed to have regained her transparent state once more. She walked past them and claimed the window seat, looking out at the sun, smiling at the giggling sound and ignoring the nauseous sight of the two quiet adults cuddling.

It was a blissful morning, with two lovers trying to feed each other bread, cheese and a hot broth. Ib closed her eyes and imagined that if these two strange, demented, selfish yet loving people could get along and learn to love, anything was possible. Ib lightly tapped on her sweet pendant and rested her head against the glass. It was a beautiful morning indeed, at least, until she woke up. She closed her eyes.

"Ib?"

She opened her eyes.

"Garry?"

"Hey little lady, you fell asleep on the way. Sorry about driving slowly. It's night and it's wet, I had to be careful. We're here." Blinking her eyes, trying to adjust to the darkness, she recognised the front of her house. He whistled low. "Wow. It's big."

"Why? It's just a house." She rubbed away the sleep in her eyes.

She wondered how he got past the gates and guards. It was kind of him to drive her all the way in, so she didn't have to walk.

"It's huge, practically a castle. I like the design of the building, very classical. Do you... have a lot of parties here, or charity events? Looks kind of familiar..." His voice drifted off as he inspected the impressive architecture of the manor. Ib looked away, unable to answer the question for fear of following ones.

_Liar_

She winced at the sudden flash of thought and looked back at Garry, who had noticed her impending daze. She didn't like to remember the night, never knowing if what she did was right. She had simply let him go like that because of her bruised little ego and his lack of sobriety. It just didn't feel right, popping out in a time like that, in front of all those people, in his state of mind, with her bewildered self. Everything was wrong about that timing, yet if she had noticed him earlier at the buffet dinner or ballroom...

Her head hurts. She was thinking too much, too fast. She spotted a female figure at one of the many windows.

"Ib, everything okay? You seem tired. You don't have a cold or fever from walking in the rain, do you?"

He unbuckled his seatbelt and leaned over to cover her forehead with his hand, another on his own, checking her temperature. Finding nothing unusual, he softly placed the back of his hand against her cheek, left and right, frowning slightly at how cold they were. "You seem fin—hm?"

The little sniffle startled Garry, and before he understood what the sound meant, he felt a sudden weight on top of him and the smell of his shampoo drifting into his nostrils. Ib's arms wrapped around his neck at an uncomfortable position and her seat belt was still fastened, so she felt a little strained. Nevertheless, their first hug in years felt warm and secure, the same comfort present after more than a decade later. He hugged her back tightly, forearms encircling her small waist and pressed his cheek against her hair, eyes closing in relief.

Ib dropped her head at the crook of his neck and simply breathed him in for a few minutes. His scent had a calming effect on her. Ib's head eventually slipped down and rested against the top of his chest. She felt the steady pounding of his heartbeat; the comforting rhythm made her feel safe, like nothing could hurt her anymore. She felt one large hand holding her head securely against him and the other gently rubbing her back in slow circles. Feeling a little too warm, she looked back up at him and smiled softly, beginning to tear slightly in happiness. The tenderness in Garry's eyes in the dim lighting made her heart swell a little. She could stay like this forever.

Her bag suddenly vibrated, shattering the reverie.

Sighing softly in disappointment, Ib pulled back and gave him a swift peck on the cheek, close to the corner of his mouth before she looked away quickly, embarrassed at what she did.

"I can't thank you enough, Garry. I have to go."

She promptly unfastened her seatbelt, grabbed her bag and dashed out, not looking back once. The little bird peck had stunned him. Garry stared at her blankly before he suddenly snapped back to reality and stepped out, calling to her a second later.

"Wait!"

She stopped, hesitantly looking back. Ib's red face seemed almost shy and afraid with his car's headlamps. "Can we at least trade numbers and emails before you go?"

Her face was emotionless for a second, before a slow, genuine smile practically glowed on her face. Ib ran back and whipped out her phone.

xIxBx

He tied his hair back with a rubber band into a tiny ponytail. It's getting too long now; he'd have to it cut soon enough. Knowing he'll be a hot, sweaty mess is about an hour's time, he clipped back his fringe and strands from his face. Garry wondered whether or not to re-dye the purple or leave the fading colour as it is.

"_That blonde hair is disgusting. Dye it black after dinner."_

"_Mm." He grabbed another dumpling before ignoring the old man again. He would do as he pleased, he was fifteen._

Garry grabbed the four heavy medium-sized boxes, two at a time, from the storage area and dumped them into father's old workshop in his mother's house. After sending Ib, he remembered Pa liked to make miniature mansions and other crafts whenever he was free. After his death, Garry left all of the packing of Pa's belongings alone to Ma, not even bothering to check anything he may have left for the shop, or him.

This should be everything, according to his mother. Things were still strained between them, but she seemed to have forgiven him.

Mentally preparing himself for the onslaught of memories, he brought out the first work, carefully packed to ensure minimum damage. His mother was thorough. The first one that he unwrapped was a miniature rabbit figurine. He inspected it for deformities, mould or damage but it seemed perfectly intact, even after years of storage. He smiled at the adorable animal, thinking back to how he used to love rabbits. He set it aside.

"_I'm home!"_

_The young boy entered his house and took off his shoes. It was an exhausting day. His accidental purple hair had raised quite a few eyebrows today, and the bullying was worst than usual. He's dying it back to black tomorrow. His only reprieve was the small, modest house he called home._

"_Garry! I've got something to show you! Come down to the workshop!"_

_There was a box on the table in the dining room, ready to be transported to the shop tomorrow morning._

"_Coming Pa!"_

Garry opened the next package, uncovering a rat, then an ox and so on. One by one, twelve figurines completed the Chinese Zodiac calendar. Garry sighed and rubbed his face, feeling like a complete arsehole. He loved the detailed legends his father explained and was so engrossed with the stories he wanted to make detailed animal figurines himself. Unfortunately, his still growing skills made a mess of his father's precious wood stock. Instead, the old man carved them himself.

He remembered leaving the figurines on his shelf to dust after moving out for the first time.

_His father's workshop was probably his favourite place in the house. The smell of wood always reminded him of the days when he would sit as a child and stare at his father working for hours on ends. His mother's art studio smells sharp like fine art materials that refused to be touched by anyone but its master. _

_Coming from a family where art was prominent, he had been exposed to a wide variety of art styles as a child. He tried painting but didn't have his mother's flair. He tried woodcarving but it could never match his father's style, unless he worked on it for another fifteen years or so. He didn't want either. He wanted to do his own thing. He just didn't know what yet._

Garry shook his head and worked on the remaining packages methodically, avoiding reminiscing too much to save time. Soon, all four boxes were empty and there was only one small package left. He smiled bitterly, knowing exactly what it was.

"_Isn't it beautiful?"_

_His father had carved a figure of a ballerina, in a graceful pose. She had her eyes closed, dreaming of soaring into the sky. Garry nodded his appreciation. One of these days he would create such magnificent pieces from his fingertips too._

"_She's gorgeous."_

"_Don't just look at her face Garry, look at her entire body. The beauty of being a true artist is making your pieces come alive, whether or not they're moving. What do you think she's dreaming of?"_

"_I dunno, Pa. She's graceful; she's definitely strong standing on her toe like that. She looks... like she's searching for something. Her pose says she wants to fly, like she wants freedom."_

_His father's smiling face instantly brightened his sudden melancholic spirits, looking at the ballerina. "You're quite the poet, Garry." He slapped his back hard, grinning proudly at him, "Too bad you're a woodcarver, eh boy?"_

_His face locked in place and he nodded slowly, agreeing to whatever his father said. The subject was instantly dropped when Ma called for dinner and they both raced to the table, little boys again. There were no discussions of ambitions, of an old family shop and of grandchildren at the dinner table. He was only fourteen after all._

He sorted through the assortment, claiming the zodiac animals and ballerina for himself, choosing suitable pieces for his mother's house and decided on selling the rest in the shop.

The shop and skills had been handed down the past few generations, by all who passed before their time. Although it did well financially, no matter where it's changing location, the owners practically made it look like a curse. Garry needed to fulfil a dying man's wish, so he did. He made no apprentices though, hired no assistants, just him running everything with Ma occasionally helping.

His father was a firm, conservative man in his mid forties when Garry was first born. As Garry grew and increased his self-expression, his father grew colder and stricter. The arguments started off small, but snowballed to important decisions like Garry's future life. Garry didn't want the shop, while his father didn't want it to die with the fourth generation.

Instead of growing up, he rebelled in every possible way. He smoke, he drank underage, and he cross-dressed, making himself more feminine. After moving out at the end of middle school, he kept strained communication with his parents. He only helped his father with the shop's busier, seasonal collections at the request of his mother. When his health started ailing, Garry finally relented, inheriting the shop. He thought back to the dreams and ambitions he never achieved.

"_It's preferable to be gentle than rough, hm?"_

"You opened my eyes, Ib. I'm a hypocrite." Garry affectionately looked back at the ballerina in question and held it gently, reverently. "It's like she wants freedom. Really now... it's perfect for a music box."

xIxBx

Ib stretched like a kitten awakening from a nap, and stifled her yawn at the sight of the head technician approaching. He bowed low.

"Thank you for your hard work today. Your playing was incredible as usual!"

She smiled lightly and nodded in reply. The staffs here were all very kind people. Grabbing her bag, she took her leave. Exiting the recording studio, Ib headed off towards Mary's hospital. Her new album featuring all of Beethoven's piano sonatas was going well and it would take a few more weeks to finish recording everything. Ib's face turned grim at the thought of the exhausting world concert tour with Ellis from October to January. She had just fought for the right to work nine to ten months a year and he was taking away her home Christmas this time. He already made her work an incredible amount of days when she was supposed to be "free".

She shook her head, the man will never change.

Ib almost skipped a little at the thought of the reward though. There would be enough funds for her charity projects and her new apartment, including furniture and a grand piano. She had found a gorgeous apartment with a view; it was close enough to home so her parents wouldn't complain about their baby, yet far enough for her to feel like an actual independent adult. She loved her parents, but they nested her and over-protected her. This was the right first step to take.

***She was a good girl. She didn't party hard for her age, practiced the piano for hours on end, improving her playing or perfecting certain classical pieces. She donated to charity; she didn't spend all of her money earned on herself or clothes or trinkets. In some ways, Ib was more normal than other people. She spent time with her over-protective parents, played with her rabbits in the gardens (much to the chagrin of the gardeners who had to occasionally solve the mystery of the missing cabbages), talked to Ayden when she decide to stay over half the time. She was happy, maybe a bit sheltered, maybe a bit naive, but definitely still herself.

Crossing the street, Ib made her way to the double doors of the hospital and greeted the nurses inside warmly.

Switching between hospitals in different parts of Japan, she only saw the children in each separate hospital once every few months, depending on her location or how far away they were from her hometown. She wanted to be fair, giving the new hospitals her entire attention for three weeks before taking note and putting them in her rotations.

Since Mary's hospital was _in_ her home city, it was easier to visit the children, including Mary, every few weeks or so when she didn't work, or after work, such as now. Mary wasn't happy, until Ib told her she would spend even longer periods of time with her when she would visit, breaking her favouritism rule. She tried so many times to justify herself, but couldn't help having mixed feelings about Mary's visits.

That girl became absolutely obstinate when she wanted something.

"So how are you, Mary? Made any new friends lately?"

She scoffs, burrowing further into her blankets on the floor. She didn't seem as amicable in this visit as the others. "No one wants this sick girl as their friend."

"Hm? Why do you say that?"

"They all run away once they find out who I am."

"That's not true-"

"-Is so! My guardian says so. Even _that house_ doesn't want me!" Ib shook her head gently and tucked Mary's wild golden locks back.

"I'm your friend, right? I want you." Mary huffed and rolled over, refusing to look at her in the eye. Ib poked her back and Mary grumbled. Ib smiled and picked her up, carrying her back to her activity mat. Mary puffed her cheeks out. "C'mon, little one, roll any further and the nurses will mistake you for a meat roll. You'll catch a cold if you roll too much on cold floors."

"I've been colder." She took a new sheet of paper, grabbing a green crayon, "What have you been up to, Ib?"

"I met an old friend a few days ago."

Mary's head snapped back and narrowed her eyes at her. "Old friend..."

"It's wonderful meeting an old friend, Mary. Although, I suppose if you haven't seen each other in years, they would count as a new friend too." Ib passed Mary the blue crayon, seeing the girl was drawing a river in the pretty forest.

"What's she like, Ib?" she added a bunny in, before getting up from the floor and fetching her distinctive blue doll to hug. Ib paid her no attention, smiling at her own field of flowers.

"It's a man, Mary." Ib absentmindedly drew a red poppy and added a sun too. "I'm sure you'd like him though. He's kind, gentle and he's helped me a lot."

"Just like old times," Mary muttered to herself. Ib looked up, finally snapping out of her daydream. Mary sat near the window, innocently enjoying the warm breeze coming in.

"I'm sorry, were you saying something?" Ib suddenly felt a chill looking at Mary, even though the day was sunny. The little girl turned towards her, her face half shrouded by shadows, the other half illuminated a little too brightly. Her blank face did nothing to hide the eeriness. Mary finally cracked a smile, a little too big, and jumped away from the light.

"It's nothing, Ib. Let's go play with the dolls, I'm tired of drawing!" The cherubic little girl took the older woman by her hand and dragged her away from the papers. She couldn't stand the sight of anymore flowers. She wouldn't let anyone take her Ib away ever again.

xIxBx

The warm sea breeze swept through his hair, blowing the messy locks back away from his face. Garry blinked several times, feeling his left eye a bit sensitive. He stopped walking and looked towards the golden sunset, feeling a calm washing over him. The warm tones and hues painted him a new perspective. He could understand why the businessmen nearby had picked this particular spot for their outdoor cafes.

Looking at one pavement tile a few feet away, he could almost envision what happened more than a year ago with Kina. He frowned, rubbing his temple delicately at the memory of her attack. 'Crazy girl' Looking back years later, he wondered how he didn't fit the pieces together sooner.

"_Take me with you, Garry!"_

"_Hey Garry, what are you doing? I want to see too!"_

"_Why are you ignoring me? Do you hate me?"_

It was ridiculous how the uncanny the resemblance was, how easy she made it for him, yet he ignored the signs, looking at things superficially. After all, how could the gallery doll turn into a person? He didn't, _couldn't_ understand how things came to be. He took the chewed-up toothpick out of his mouth and threw it into a nearby bin, replacing the wooden stick with a hard lemon candy. Scratching the back of his head, Garry walked on, feeling restless once more.

No one's seen Kina for years now, not even her brother who came to apologise to him a few weeks after the incident. Somehow, she had completely vanished. Sometimes he could feel piercing eyes watching him from time to time. Whenever he looked for them, the feeling would vanish and he'd resume with whatever he was doing. It was unsettling, yet harmless enough to ignore.

He bit the remains of his sweet until it crumbled into sweet dust.

His mouth felt dry.

Now that he finally had a reason to quit, his cravings were acting up again because of all the stress surrounding him. 'The shop may not be doing as well but I really should call-' He paused, hearing a crunch underneath his shoe. Backing off the object, he bent down to find a fishing hook on the ground. He lightly caressed it, feeling the sharp point and strong material in his hand. Feeling a little too bold, he stroked the razor-sharp blade on its end, fascinated by its potential danger.

Garry winced at the sudden pain, feeling like an idiot.

"Never held a fishhook before, son?"

The voice startled him before he saw a tired fisherman a distance away.

"Nah, I was just careless. Here." Garry gave a gentle grin to the old man and walked to his side of the pier, not wanting to trouble him. He noticed the bucket with hardly any fish and a few assortments of waterlogged items. The old fisherman thanked him and grumbled when Garry asked about the number of fish that he caught.

"Not much fish, but I did find a red umbrella. People should really be more careful with their belongings."

Dumbfounded with that statement, Garry nodded his head in agreement, not wanting to seem rude and quickly left him.

Walking by the side of the railings again, he spotted a dark shade move across the darkening water underneath the streaks of pink, purple and orange in the sky. Garry blinked several times, wondering if his eyes were tricking him once more.

_Abyss of the deep_

"_A world where man will never stand... to realise that world, I decided that I would engrave it on a canvas." _

Realising his mistake, Garry rubbed his eyes. He was exhausted by his paranoia, annoyed at the fact he mistook a boat for a giant fish. He admired the vast ocean, but the depth of it terrified him. Man has seen the vastness of space, yet the trenches of the deepest oceans were still relatively unexplored.

_Drown in the abyss._

Garry grinded his teeth in annoyance at the horrid thought. 'Guertena had a terrifying sense of humour.' He stretched his arms out like an old cat, relieving the tension in his muscles, then popped yet another lemon candy into his mouth. Tired and longing to hear her voice again, he took out his phone and searched through his contacts.

xIxBx

***"Mozart, huh?"

Ellis looked back at the agenda, a smirk forming at the next event.

_Performances at grade schools and junior highs_

He had come over for tea at the Bennett's estate, and to schedule with one of Japan's greatest talents her next performance dates. After looking at the particulars, William agreed and quickly left for a business emergency. Ib had started playing on the piano, brainstorming the pieces she would have to practice and perform. Ellis stared longingly at her parted lips, before forcing himself to keep eye-contact with her mother.

"The children like Mozart, and she always seem to have fun playing it." Esme smiled at her daughter, who seemed too entranced with the piano sonata to listen to a word of their conversation. "Her style becomes so playful, no matter how intricate or difficult the piece is. Ib plays with it with heart, making it sound so simple, and the children love her for it."

The younger man nodded his head seriously and took a sip of his black coffee.

"I remember when we first met she played Mozart too, didn't she?"

"She did. You've never taken your eyes off her since, have you?" Esme gave a wink and he uncharacteristically smiled back.

"Maybe. She's our best partner after all."

Reading next to him, Ayden put down her magazine and teasingly nudged him with her shoulder.

He appreciated the sweet pomegranate fragrance radiating off her. 'Why doesn't Ib wear strong perfume?'

She leaned in close, placing a hand on his thigh and whispered in his ear, "You've gone soft, haven't you?" She smirked as he rolled his eyes.

"It's hard to ignore her when she's playing like this." He brought up his haughty demeanour as a defence. "I rarely see her lower her guard around me." Looking once more at the enchanted woman, with fingers as smooth as silk, he lowered his gaze at her watermelon printed socks. He suppressed a chuckle; the adorable ankle socks didn't match her lady-like outfit at all.

Ayden took a sip of tea, fixing her dark burgundy eyes at him, teasingly singing, "She hates you."

Esme laughed, more amused than uncomfortable by anything Ayden does, "She does not. She's thankful."

"She would appreciate it if people didn't talk about her when she is still in the room." The brisk response came from woman in the middle of a difficult phrase. The two women laughed it off while his eyes kept wandering over her until it settled on her pursed lips and knitted eyebrows. When it became easier, her lips started on a cheerful curl once more. Ellis gave an internal sigh, wondering why she never smiled as unreservedly around him as she did with her piano.

A vibration on the coffee table stopped his train of thought. Ayden reached over and checked Ib's phone.

"Oi, piano-girl, someone named... Garry... is calling you."

The smooth melodic crescendo of the piano crashed and came to an immediate, abrupt halt. Ib's face turned bright red and she scrambled out of her seat. Nothing deterred her. She fell hard on the floor, tripping on loose carpet, skirted around tables and finally lunged at Ayden for the phone. She smirked at the opportunity. Ayden held her hand back while the younger woman stretched out her arms, desperately reaching for her cell.

"Give...Me!"

"How about... no!"

Ellis watched the women scrambling beside him, enjoying the view of flushed faces and unexpected friction between their bodies. Ayden laughed cruelly. Esme came behind them both and took the phone away, irritated. "Ladies! Honestly, you two are behaving like children; And in front of Ellis, too!"

The phone became silent. Ayden sniggered, giving Ib a curious and smug expression.

"Who was the commoner, dearest?"

"None of your business," she snapped back. The phone rang once more. Ib politely took it from her mother before excitedly rushing out of the room. Ayden fixed her clothes and brushed imaginary lint off them, opening a compact mirror to check her makeup.

Ellis was beyond exasperated. He had spent the past six years with the girl and she barely lets her guard down in front of him. Now some stranger was making her all excited and flustered from one phone call? 'Unacceptable.' After a nerve-wrecking five minutes of waiting, he finally decided to find Ib.

"Excuse me, ladies." He stood up, bowing before Esme and Ayden. He didn't care for the knowing glints in their eyes.

After coming here quite a few times over the years, he was quite experienced with the layout of the house. He followed the sound of giggles until he finally reached her, staying back behind a corner. Glancing over briefly, he confirmed her cheeks and nose was indeed dusted with a sweet rosy pink.

She gave a small, embarrassed smile. "No, my cold's better." She leaned back on the wall, probably happy by the person's concern for her health.

"Yeah, two weeks sure fly, I'm sorry I'm so busy." Ellis smirked, thrilled by the fact he kept her away from him for at least some time. He glanced back following the sharp gasp. "I'd love to! I'm free on..." she scrunched her eyes and recalled her scheduled recording sessions. "...Wednesday. What do you have in mind?"

He grinded his teeth, before storming away, careful to ensure she didn't discover his eavesdropping. Ellis clenched and unclenched his fists, jealous and possessive, despite his lack of possession. Arriving back to the room, he gave a charismatically apologetic smile. "I'm sorry; I'd like to go out for a smoke. I'll be stepping out for a bit on the veranda."

Esme nodded stiffly, "Take your time." She saw the rage that he had tried to hide fiercely in his eyes. It wasn't like she wasn't curious about the gentleman who drove Ib back from town that day either. However, she was much more patient than Ellis. She would wait for Ib and she _will_ get her answer.

Ib walked back to the room slowly, feeling like her short conversation would be coming to a close soon.

"Four sounds good. Where are we going?"

"_[We, my dear little lady, are going to fulfil a promise.]"_

"A promise..." she twirled a lock of hair around her index finger and pulled, understanding his meaning. She closed her eyes in memory. "Oh, that promise you made..."

"_[I know it's a little late, more than a decade late, and I'm sorry. I still want us to have some macaroons together though. What do you think?]"_

"Sounds like a date." She said cheerfully. There was a short pause. Her heart raced, afraid of rejection.

"_[Sure!]_" She gave a silent, relieved sigh, "_[I'll pick you up at four thirty on Wednesday-]"_

"-We can meet in the park, by the large fountain! My house is a little out of the way."

"_[Well, I don't mind, you can decide.]_"

She said her farewells and waited for him to disconnect. She held the mobile close to her chest and for the first time in her life, bounced in glee like a smitten teenager. Ib hadn't felt this light-headed in years.

xIxBx

Watching the second hand on her pocket watch, the little girl sluggishly picked herself out of bed and staggered towards the hospital window. The view wasn't very much, but she needed this important little box. Slumping on the wall beside the glass, Mary checked the time once more. She nodded to herself.

xIxBx

"Here it comes, Dolly!"

The tiny batter tapped the home plate lightly before swinging her bat into position. Underneath the baseball cap laid a feral grin, eyes watching the second hand of the clock tower instead of the ball of the pitcher. She missed the first ball, swinging too late.

"One!"

The pitcher threw again. The woman with her coarse black hair in a ponytail and baseball cap swung too early, missing the ball again.

"Two! Get your head in the game."

Eyes forever watching the second hand of the clock finally looked at the pitcher. "Sorry! Daydreaming about lunch! One more time?" The rest of her team groaned at the incorrigible woman. Once again, she got into position and gave a vicious smirk. The pitcher pulled back and threw.

She swung and hit the ball.

It went flying into the sky, to the astonishment of everyone in the pitch. They never expected a homerun. She threw down her bat and went running off, victory painted on her face.

Perfect timing

xIxBx

Three

Two

One

The glass window shattered. The little girl next to the window frowned, picking a tiny glass particle out of her hair. She shook her hair out, and then picked the largest and thinnest shard she could find amongst the sea of glass. Satisfied with her discovery, she tucked it into her unfinished bigger doll's still unstitched stomach and dashed for her bed silently, hearing footsteps thundering towards her room.

"Mary! What happened?!" One of the kinder nurses came in, shocked at the scene and state of the window.

"I-I don't know. I was just sleeping and then I heard a loud crash." She rubbed her eyes innocently, acting the perfect part of a sleepy, frightened child.

"Are you hurt?" The nurse found a baseball nearby and resisted the urge to pick it up, instead, taking care of the long-term patient.

"N-No, I'm just a little scared."

"It's okay, honey; let's put you in another room first, while security looks at your window. We'll contact your guardian in a few minutes and tell her about this okay?"

"Yes, ma'am." Her eyes shifted to the large doll next to her bed at lightning speed, before anyone could notice.

She kept her head down.

She resisted the urge to smirk.

xIxBx

_**COMING SOON:**_

"_I had macaroons in Paris once. Ah! It was so good."_

_Ib stopped short and looked him over. Feeling the intense stare, he placed a hand on her shoulder, curious about her brief pause. "You okay?"_

"_Y-You really did...?" _

"_Yeah, why?"_

_She looked away, dazed, eyes glazed over. She shook her head and took his hand in hers._

**xTxBxC**

AN: C: C: And so... the plot thickens. Chapter updates are going to slow down because of school tests and the fact I've run out of already-written material among other things, so I hope you will be patient. If there are any grammatical mistakes, spelling errors or inconsistencies in the story please let me know C: Thoughts on the chapter? :D Thank you for reading C: Take care!


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